All I can Say about Stanley Plumly's Poem

These are not North American women are they?
They are women from the swarthy south. They are
hairy women who have the rhythm of the beast.

I only know those
who smile in conversation
as they dipple at grease stains on their sleeve
and open purses to pick out powder
and colored dye for their lips.

These are the remote women
who puzzle me. I'm too frightened
of your frank and energetic women
to even invent
a fantasy.