Celebrity Verses Poetry: The Conscious Uncoupling of Gwyneth Paltrow


Unctuous Frumpling

All is not well
in the house of GOOP!
But be not afraid,
Emma and Coldplay are
Consciously uncoupling—
these are no love narcoleptics
negotiating how to half Apple
and part Moses’ red heart.

Be warned, you must prepare
your gut environment
for the single-ready-to-mingle
macrobiotic soul cleanse,
your PTA meetings
for a mindful force
of kabbalic understanding
the likes of which Jane Noprivilege
could never begin to couple,
consciously, to her soul.

Prepare thy screens
and thine eyes
for the health food
Tracy Anderson
muscle sack that is
the liberated GP—
all shaved pubis
in provocateur couture,
skirts shorter than cameos
while the Dorian Gray portrait
of her other-dimensional self
grows further clogged
with the shunned
trans fats and self-awareness
bouncing off our new age sweetsoul
like organic, locally sourced rubber.
A portrait before which she stands,
bronzed and taut
whispering daily
Ceci n’est pas une Gwyneth.


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