‘Head with Broken Pot’ (1942) by Georgia O’Keeffe
It was the bones that seduced you. The eyes would be nothing without them;
the bones lifted you to them.
The bones: prominent and high set. Skin spread over – smooth and perfect.
A stone under fine sand.
The bones: tilting the face towards the high heavens – divine perfection.
Atonement for the damned.
The bones sculpt a high slope to climb;
to slip down their curves;
to fall onto lips.
The bones: even, symmetrical – divisible elegance.
The naked face of Fibonacci’s skeleton.
The bones…so soft…a slow ripple in the face…
The bones of the jaw, however: fine cut and merciless.
A clean edge with nothing to grip
– an airborne gaze tumbles onto the indents of the neck,
the hems of fabric,
the arch of breasts…
The bones were erotic, I’m telling you.
The bones alone seduced you.
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