Hotel Brindisi

By Honor Moore b. 1945 Honor Moore
The glass door was spinning panes
like an open book.
A suit the color of sky close to night,
wire of eyeglasses a gold moon.

He bowed as if judicial
and called a French name.
Glasses were filled with ice
the color of amber.

We were in America.

He asked me to take his hands.
They are cold, he said.
I warmed his cold hands
as we sat on the rouge banquette.

It was the last May of the century.

His eyes looked at my face.
His hand fell to the glacier
of my thigh and held on.
My gold tail swam dark green water,
the ocean smelled of gardenia.
Outside on the avenue people
scurried to their palaces, wearing
sunglasses, carrying shiny bags.

Honor Moore, "Hotel Brindisi" from Red Shoes. Copyright © 2005 by Honor Moore. Used by permission of the author and W. W. Norton & Company, Inc. This selection may not be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Source: Red Shoes (W. W. Norton and Company Inc., 2005)

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Poet Honor Moore b. 1945

POET’S REGION U.S., Mid-Atlantic

Subjects Arts & Sciences, Architecture & Design, Social Commentaries, Cities & Urban Life

Poetic Terms Free Verse

 Honor  Moore


Honor Moore is well known for her work as a playwright, memoirist, editor, and poet. She has edited selections of Amy Lowell’s poems, contemporary plays by American women, and poems from Russia, and is the author of several poetry collections, including Memoir and Red Shoes; two memoirs, The White Blackbird: A Life of the Painter Margarett Sargent by Her Granddaughter and The Bishop’s Daughter; the play Mourning Pictures; and . . .

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Poems by Honor Moore

Poem Categorization

SUBJECT Arts & Sciences, Architecture & Design, Social Commentaries, Cities & Urban Life

POET’S REGION U.S., Mid-Atlantic

Poetic Terms Free Verse

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Originally appeared in Poetry magazine.

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