Six hours like this for a few francs.
Belly nipple arse in the window light,
he drains the color from me. Further to the right,
Madame. And do try to be still.
I shall be represented analytically and hung
in great museums. The bourgeoisie will coo
at such an image of a river-whore. They call it Art.
Maybe. He is concerned with volume, space.
I with the next meal. You’re getting thin,
Madame, this is not good. My breasts hang
slightly low, the studio is cold. In the tea-leaves
I can see the Queen of England gazing
at my shape. Magnificent, she murmurs,
moving on. It makes me laugh. His name
is Georges. They tell me he’s a genius.
There are times he does not concentrate
and stiffens for my warmth.
He possesses me on canvas as he dips the brush
repeatedly into the paint. Little man,
you’ve not the money for the arts I sell.
Both poor, we make our living how we can.
I ask him Why do you do this? Because
I have to. There’s no choice. Don’t talk.
My smile confuses him. These artists
take themselves too seriously. At night I fill myself
with wine and dance around the bars. When it’s finished
he shows me proudly, lights a cigarette. I say
Twelve francs and get my shawl. It does not look like me.
© Carol Ann Duffy | Oxford University Press | 2001
Hearts, like doors, will ope with easeTo very, very little keys,And don’t forget that two of theseAre “I thank you” and “If you please.” Come when you’re called,Do what you’re bid,Close the door after you,Never be chid. Seldom “can’t,”Seldom “don’t;”Never “shan’t,”Never “won’t.” © Anonymous | Spilledwords | 2021
Give me a pen and paper;leave me the restand words will spill outwithout pre-plan andimprint themselves on a page or two. Give me air and space;watch those words spring upbreathing with lifestories learned, dreams fulfilledplaces traveled, experiences earned. Give me strength and courage;release me from fear of the unknown andthe half-heartedness to send these words […]
Good God! I’m like an undone homeworkSubmitted to a tutor by an anxious pupilWho over the weekend had triedYet failed to make headway.Teacher– would you spank me?Mock, flatter, or encourage your pupil?Solve me for me, oh Lord.Or teach me how to do me betterThat the pass mark I may not miss. © Ndidi Ugo- Nkwoala […]
Is there anything sweeter than these hours of love,when we’re together, and my heart races?For what is better than embracing and fondlingwhen you visit me, and we surrender to delights? If you reach to caress my thigh,I will offer you my breast also —it’s soft; it won’t jab you or thrust you away! Will you […]
I walked through a county courthouse squareOn a park bench an old man was sitting thereI said, your old courthouse is kinda run downHe said, naw, it’ll do for our little townI said, your old flagpole has leaned a little bitAnd that’s a ragged old flag you got hanging on it He said, have a […]