nevermind + poetry.

painting of a woman

What is a woman,

And what do you do with her?

This is always an idea

With the paints

And the brushes

And the hands

At first you shall paint

Her delicate,

Because that is a

Woman.

But she might become

Angry, and try to rip

The canvas

In two.

You fear, and yet you begin.

You hold the brush like a

Weapon. A foreign object

To claim as your own,

To make your own.

You hold it like a sword,

Ready to conquer.

You want to paint a

Woman. You want to paint

Your woman.

You are painting a landscape

A country- filled with whatever

You desire. It is your land.

Your umbers, your blues,

Your greens, your ochres.

Your gold fields slashed with

Silver and gold.

Again and again-

And you become repetitive.

But you are a man

So you charge on,

Tool in hand,

Weapon in hand,

Army in hand.

You paint the woman

Against the wall.

She wears a turban,

A necklace of beads

Laced around her throat,

Paint out the red stains on her hands

And the rope burns on her wrists.

Discard them.

Smudge away the bruise

Under her left eye,

And camouflage the copper

Between her teeth.

You see, this is your woman

And these are but small details-

That do not belong

In your frame.

You should destroy them when you can,

And you do.

And now your woman is tan and rosy,

Dusted with glittering petals,

And the light shines off her skin

As if you are looking at her