Nude Descending a Staircase
By sweetbrother
She is on a wall in a hushed room Elegant people gather in awe to contemplate her bronze angular form I am invisible in a corner content in the secret knowledge that she belongs to me She is in my home of blond wood and polished marble My stairs creak softly beneath her bare feet Her left hand holds a glass of wine dark like blood Her right hand beckons silently summoning me I do not speak, nor does she I watch the gradual movement of her body, clothed in grace flowing down the stairs like a glacier She sips the wine the liquid merges with the redness of her lips Her eyes send a silent message, an invitation mingled with a threat In the mute language of my eyes I tell her yes, I will join her The elegant people have left the gallery to return to their two-dimensional world In the privacy of the silent room she reveals herself as flesh, not canvas She takes my hand, turns on her heels, and leads me up the staircase The next morning finds the gallery empty except for a broken wineglass on the floor. Written November 7th, 2001 © on Nov 07 2001 03:35 AM PST 0 • 10
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"She is on a wall..."