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etude de nu


look at me & tell me I’m beautiful.

I wonder if she’s thinking that when she gives me her nude
etudes. & I wonder if I can paint her in blue verses on a
white background.

she is all contours & the color of night. brunette tousles, eyes
like pale moons; a faded rose mouth that hesitates to curve
(except for a kiss).  tall like the lonesome pine.

she has cerise patches around torrid nipples, black studs in
her lobes, & a gold that was never mined, but remains raw.
if brooding is a color, she wears it well.

the flow of her tears marks her with rhinestone dapples, but she
calls it the rain. I would lick the watercolors that stream from the
factory of her passion; paint her explicit flesh with the madness
of my kisses, & trace her fiery edges with my hands.

my brutal affections pierce her skin with the scars of my obsession,
a warning to other men that she is captive art. she wears them like
Pictish tattoos.

I could say this ode is strictly a portrait of her, not a reflection of my
own vanity.  but everything about me  –  is about her.

my pallid walls will be framed with lithographs of our desperate sex,
and the stained sheets,  become a mural…


(Art: Armands Grundmanis)

Written by JohnFeddeler
Published
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