Arsenic Lobster poetry journal Issue Thirty
Winter 2012
Lisa Is Not Pink
Lisa McCool-Grime

She is not heavy-
lashed. She does not
dance the Charleston
or exclaim Tra la la!
after her last sip
of peppermint tea.
Some think she is flat-
chested or hard-wired
but she is not. She is not
moon-bound, not
flirting with justice, not
a sandy-footed stalker
of sea sponge. Neither
lizardlike nor stone-
faced, Lisa hasn’t
a clue about the ancient
Greeks. She will not be
turned into a laurel.
She will not be seduced
by a swan. Never
a sunflower following
the sun, never the cheese
standing alone. She avoids
sugar and salt and loving
the flanklike muscle
of a certain someone’s
steadily chewing jaw.

“Lisa,” you might then ask,
“how did you come to be
among these other things?”

About Lisa McCool-Grime

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