by C. M. Wilson
I wanted to enter, but was blocked.
Before me was a wood door with two peepholes,
and through the slits I saw a brick wall, a leather torso beyond
resting upon twigs, velvet, glass and “glue”
spread, legs wide.
Against a painted landscape with illuminated sky, she holds a lantern; she has no face.
She radiates from within, without external lips, limbs. She's olive-skinned.
An electric motor spins like a washing machine.
I wanted to enter, but remained blocked.
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At the sink, staring out the kitchen window, hot steam opens my pores.
Water flows onto the linoleum floor.
You tasted like sweet apples there.
In my dream was a room with open windows, and a bed next to a door. I walked around it for a breath of air. When I returned, the door was locked.
I was blocked.
Couldn't breathe.
Opened the kitchen window.
Opening, like a waterfall.
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This short piece was an exercise for my MFA fiction writing program. As a former art history student, I am trying to incorporate art into my writing. Marcel Duchamp's final work, "Étant donnés" inspired this piece.
This is a draft and certainly hasn't been published.
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