This is a poem inspired by a corset lace I found in my great-aunt’s attic never used with the price still on it. The brand name is “At the magician’s” (magician in the feminine).
À la magicienne
Un corset
Un lacet
De quelle magie parlons-nous ?
De quelle magicienne ?
De celle qui opprime
Déprime
Contraint
Astreint
Ou de celle qui embellit
Affermit
Définit
Enrichit.
C'est peut-être un choix
A chaque fois
Savoir combien
Quel équilibre
On s'astreint
On retient ou on est libre.
At the Woman-Magician’s
A corset
Its lace
Which magic are we talking about?
Which She-magician?
The one who oppresses
Depresses
Constrains
Restrains
Or the one who gives beauty
Tightens
Strengthens
Defines
It may be a choice
Each time
To find the balance
Between
How much one controls
Or one lets breathe
This poem is part of the book To be a Woman which you can have a look at Here.
It is a weight, not heavy, just 50gr but I thought about what weighs and what springs again even though it was cut down (the mint) and somehow the mint met with the shadow of the weight. Trying to see something everyday in the humble or otherwise.
