That's a stunner! Never heard of her, will look for more.
Here's another little-known lady, Virginia Adair. Very elderly now, lifelong teacher, I think at Cal Poly in the Pomona area, not sure. hardly ever published until very recently, a small book spanning decades was printed. I found this poem in New Yorker, one of her few published pieces, is how I know about her. This is from memory, but I think it's exact: It has one of the great closing lines in all poetry, methinks.
GOD TO THE SERPENT
Beloved Snake, perhaps my finest blueprint,
How can I not take pride in your design?
Your passage without hoof or paw or shoe print
Revels in art's and nature's S-curve line.
No ears, no whiskers, fingers, legs, or teeth,
No cries, complaints, or curses from you start;
But silence shares your body in its sheath,
Full-functioning with no superfluous part.
Men strive to emulate your forkéd tongue,
Their prideful pricks dwarfed by your lordly length.
Two arms for blows or hugging loosely hung
Are mocked by Boa Constrictor's single strength.
How dare men claim their image as my own,
With all those limbs and features sticking out?
You, Snake, with continuity of bone
Need but a spine to coil and cruise about.
Men fear the force of your hypnotic eyes,
Make myths to damn your being, wise and deft.
You, Snake, not men, deserve my cosmic prize.
I'm glad you stayed in Eden when they left!
--Virginia Hamilton Adair
(music)
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