Blocked (Inspired by Duchamp's Étant donnés)

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.