I mean, something has to keep those skates from sliding out from under her:
Maxwell Bodenheim (1892-1954), now mostly forgotten, was lionized in the late 1920s and early 1930s, first as a poet, then as a somewhat licentious novelist, the latter reputation encouraged by the New York Society for the Suppression of Vice, which objected strenuously to Bodenheim’s 1925 novel Replenishing Jessica, whose presumably depleted heroine found “the simple feat of keeping her legs crossed … a structural impossibility.” Naked on Roller Skates came out in 1930.
His poems? Here’s one:
Whenever a love dies within you,
Griefs, phosphorescent with unborn tears,
Cut the glowing hush of a meadow within you:
Griefs striking their pearl-voiced cymbals
And shaping the silences once held by your love.
Your new love blows a trumpet of sunlight
Into the meadow, and your griefs
Leap into the echo and return to you.
Damn those griefs, anyway.
(Book cover Found in Mom’s Basement.)