etched in silver
i’m a woman
no longer young
changed by water
and wind, etched
in silver and want
hot flesh, a face
A blackout poem based on the poem below by Allison Funk:
Self-Portrait in the Nude
To understand what it would be like
to remove my clothes
as painters do in portraits of themselves
ima gine I’m the woman
who knows her body
belongs to the young artist who painted herself before she had children,
before her topography was changed
forces erosive as water and wind, and yet she goes on painting it,
the girdle of her earth that is now an etched terrain
crossed with silver rivulets.
hills , I want to say to her.
Valleys. Then hummocks,
springs, hoodoo. What is art about if not depression? Uplift? Depression
again? At which she straightens
the flesh of her shoulders and neck to face me before I disappear(ing)
my favorite state of undress.
Copyright © 2018 Allison Funk.