May
2005
Hi Linda
First of all, greetings from England. I don’t know
how many other fans you have in the UK but I discovered your
existence a few weeks ago and wow!
I particularly liked the pictures I saw of you in a shift,
posing on a couch. They are just so highly charged and they
brought a poem to mind (not mine I’m sorry to say) that
carries a similar intensity:
Next to my own skin, her pearls. My mistress bids me
wear them, warm then, until evening when I'll brush her hair.
At six, I place them round her cool, white throat. All day
I think of her,
resting in the Yellow Room, contemplating silk or taffeta,
which gown tonight? She fans herself whilst I work willingly,
my slow heat entering each pearl. Slack on my neck, her rope.
She's beautiful. I dream about her in my attic bed; picture
her dancing with tall men, puzzled by my faint, persistent
scent beneath her French perfume, her milky stones.
I dust her shoulders with a rabbit's foot, watch the
soft blush seep through her skin like an indolent sigh. In
her looking-glass my red lips part as though I want to speak.
Full moon. Her carriage brings her home. I see her every
movement in my head... Undressing, taking off her jewels,
her slim hand reaching for the case, slipping naked into bed,
the way she always does...
And I lie here awake, knowing the pearls are cooling
even now in the room where my mistress sleeps. All night I
feel their absence and I burn.
Now I’m certainly not a maidservant, but I can feel
those pearls burning right now and maybe I could consider
a career move (although not a sex change!). Hope you like
it.
Best wishes
Brian
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