The Nude
Rafters of the ribcage brace themselves
against the skin, and slim
in the middle. Hipbones push out
like fists. From the back,
a nude woman resembles a violin.
When we tell a story with her,
she is an instrumental, a landscape.
When she turns away like this,
we admire her more, skin like
fabric, like velvet, a river
holding the light as it passes over
rocks and hills. Let’s make
her responsible for how she makes
us feel as we watch her.
Love this one, Hannah.
ReplyDeletea-mazing.
ReplyDeletethea.
xx
The ending is part of the trouble in the world, isn't it? Sigh...
ReplyDeleteDang, all that voyeuristic projection, that poeticizing, and then the poeticizer leaves that devastating last line “Let’s make her responsible for how she makes us feel as we watch her.”
ReplyDeleteI like this recent dipping into a darker vein.
The descriptors made me jealous!
ReplyDelete