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Showing posts from April, 2017

Cold Observer

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Supine was I, diagonal, set upon the table, eyes frozen, fixed upon two paper lanterns— suspended like dirigibles: Crest white  and cash green. Still, but more in motion than I who lay below, shivering, lying, telling myself two hundred dollars matter. 
You plucked fish from fans splayed across my refrigerated skin; you prodded sand dollar shells shielding my aching nipples; and you laughed about my brazen vulnerability.
I’ll answer now your bass and tenor speculation,  the “why does she?” of my nyotaimori When you push away, bellies full, balls starving,  if my talents are inferior, why did you pay me?

Portrait of the Brontë Sisters (and Branwell fading in) by Branwell Brontë

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Did he reuse the canvas or is he seeping into our consciousness? The artist, Branwell Brontë, elder brother of the sisters, hoped to become a professional artist. The painting was described by author Elizabeth Gaskell in 1853 when it showed just the 3 sisters separated by the column. Now Branwell is emerging from the column. It was found folded on top of a cupboard in 1906 by the second wife of Charlotte’s husband Reverend A.B. Nicholls.

Some images.

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