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J e n n i f e r M a r t e l l i
Orlando Poem
I watch men watch my fourteen-year-old daughter
walk by the edge of the pool.
Her eyes look sidelong at some girls, her age, who
watch her sidelong too.
These girls are with their mothers that no one
watches anymore.
It is so hot here, the heat feels like sheer
veiling edged with coins too warm to the touch
wrapped around us all with only eyeholes.
We count up how many men watch our daughters: oh and the girls
are taught no love for each other.
guest editor: Sara Biggs Chaney
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