would this poem by a British poet catch the freedom of the moment?
Josephine Baker finds herself Patience Agbabi
the first 16 lines:
She picked me uplike a slow-burning fuse. I was downthat girls’ club used to run in Brixton,on acid for fuel. Lipstick lesbians,techno so hardcore it’s spewing out Audis.She samples my heartbeat and mixes it withvodka on the rocks. I’m her light-skinned, negative,twenty-something, short black wavy-bobbed diva.
She purrs La Garçonne, fancy a drink? I sayYes. She’s crossing the Star Bar like it’s a catwalk. So sleek!A string of pearls, her flapper dressstudded with low-cut diamondsthrough my skin, straight to my heart.Twenties chic! She worksme up and down. I worshipthe way she looks.