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.
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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