Tag Archives: dresses


by Ethel Mortenson Davis

The white birches:
Young girls
in long, white dresses,
blackberry eyes
peering out,
laughing at the winter,
peeling their dresses,
with flapping mouths jumping,
swinging in brown grass,
lovers of tall grasses,
hiding in one another’s dresses,

black eyes lost
to racing clouds.
Long, white dresses,
white skins,
lost. . .

in the summer’s


Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry

Language of the Women

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

The women of the village
started to weave
a new language
into their fabric—
shapes and forms
into their dress,
so they could communicate
with each other.

The men of the village
had treated them cruelly,
along with the children
and the animals
(whose spirits are interwoven).
Girls that tried to escape
had their ears and noses
cut off or worse.

Now, when the women
are in the market,
watched and separated,
they are able to send
messages to each other.

They are getting stronger
every day—

Mighty like the great river
that one day will flow out of that country.


Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry