March 20, 2013
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The Model
This evening together on the waterbed it wasn't anything
Like he imagined - This coarseness, this unexpected vulgarity
A clockworks complication
Yet prelude to the sensual vineyard he'd hoped it would be
Dressed in flowers screened on cambric she herself had spun
She preened before the fly-blown glass
Then settled on the redolent slosh beside him
And shed the brilliant shift
She wasn't pretty - This solid scandinavian
Her skin a mottled marble - She was layered and full-buttocked
God how he wished her long-legged
With gentle spaces between ribs he could stroke with his nose
Yet here she was smiling in the half-light
All lumps and inelegant hillocks
She seemed to him crass fatuous inane
A slightly screwy curl of lip an invitation for him to begin
All summer he told himself he really sort of wanted her
She had such beautiful eyes and long bright hair
The palest natural blond polished still brighter by the island sun
It really became her
He watched for weeks as she worked at the fragile wheel
Flacid fingers feeding flax - Remarkable in their dexterity
The straw-colored floss matched her lovely braids
It had set him off and he loved her for it
Spinning though just passed the time - She was there to pose
Draped across a chaise - The flowing folds of fat gave us fits to draw
Unlike her friend whose angry angularity was slashed out quickly
Almost without looking - She rippled as she undulated to the bell
All summer he sort of wanted her but she was taken - Now her friend
That dark acrimonious broad was gone - All ribs - Long legs
All bones and sharp corners - She left this morning with the others
And so tonight summer would be over for them both
Comments (2)
Peter, your descriptive ability captivates me. I can picture both women. Even though the second is barely referenced, I could imagine her type and personality. The spinning put me in mind of Rumpelstilskin's spinning princess, though this woman, when she was not artistically occupied, was more suited to a farm than a castle. The water bed puts me in mind of a mid-20th century, sexually experimental scene. It would seen the art student really yearned for what didn’t exist. If he’d gotten the thin woman, her attitude (and bony fame) might have actually turned off his desires. I enjoyed. Please visit me and comment on my latest poem if you have time. --Elaine
I enjoyed reading this. For some reason the words 'be careful what you wish for' came to mind.
These three words jumped out at me, 'crass fatuous inane'. I'm not sure why they caught my attention.
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