Female Figure In a Museum
She has left the drape of darkness.
Soft electric lighting
nudges hips into revelation.
Her stone has left its whiteness,
blue veins bury their tributaries
into perfected form.
There’s a dappled culturing
where marble flexes.
Her body lives beyond death and life,
the sculptress created her
as a mirror-image of her desire.
It is a dishonor to simply look
at such plicature, curve and contour
as if she were created
only to be an object for the eye;
to touch her, bring her under my flesh,
to know the shape of her in my body
that is the secret depth, the wish.
Hands seek to hide my mind
while they ripple together within
pocketed thoughts.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
