WOMAN IN A DARK BACKGROUND, Matisse, 1939
We know the hour.
A book laid aside,
she has given in to
the somnolence
that overtakes us all
when the sun turns coy
in our window.
Unguarded,
she lets us see
what a sketch of her nakedness
cannot reveal:
the thighs grown slack,
resolute cheer
of her bright-bowed shoes.
Beside her,
a vase of purple flowers
leaps and flares.
But dreaming the story of her life,
she takes no notice.
Forever she will be
as we are:
a figure with a mirror to her back,
revealing to others
what she cannot know herself:
the bravery and silliness
of the table
she has laid with care,
the darkness her body
both defines and denies.
A book laid aside,
she has given in to
the somnolence
that overtakes us all
when the sun turns coy
in our window.
Unguarded,
she lets us see
what a sketch of her nakedness
cannot reveal:
the thighs grown slack,
resolute cheer
of her bright-bowed shoes.
Beside her,
a vase of purple flowers
leaps and flares.
But dreaming the story of her life,
she takes no notice.
Forever she will be
as we are:
a figure with a mirror to her back,
revealing to others
what she cannot know herself:
the bravery and silliness
of the table
she has laid with care,
the darkness her body
both defines and denies.
posted by Patry Francis at
9:30 AM
7 Comments:
Amazing! I love it, Patry.
By
Anna Piutti, at 11:25 AM
Beautiful.
By
MB, at 2:40 PM
I like very much how you give her a personality outside of the work of art a woman caught in time forever as she was.
By
Sue hardy-Dawson, at 11:46 AM
matisse
and poems about matisse . . .
it's like dancing
By
camera shy, at 4:24 PM
Anna and Moose: Thank you!
sue: everyone is a character for me. that's the fiction writer in me, I guess.
blog this: yes, dancing!
By
Patry Francis, at 7:37 AM
'the thighs grown slack' is a great line. Nice blog.
By
aardvark, at 6:10 AM
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By
oxeye, at 8:51 PM
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