one theme, (at least) thirty variations (from 1971 Women’s Day magazine)
Here’s a piece of too-clever-wordy-nerdy-play-that-doesn’t-fit, torn from an essay I’m writing under the shadow of the toxic patriarchy.
The fragment won’t go back in.
Wanted to put it somewhere, thank it for its service:
Forget/forgive, unfortunate, those words with similar opening: we link them as if they are sisters, but they have so little in common. F-O-R. Three letters. A pile of bones.
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It’s amusing to look for the few real, actual human women in among the mannequin heads.
I know, Margaret! It’s a great, great photograph. Thanks for sending it to me!