In the Studio
Alone in the studio, the model sighed.
She picked up a malingering brush,
feathered her cheeks,
feeling for what she saw on the canvas,
that being he made
from the bones of her wrists and a bowl of peonies,
tomorrow for skin, smile curve and tangent,
blur of ripe cream leg
no woman ever used to walk.
She touched her face, round in the rind of hair,
a basin brimmed with the rippling past
poured blind before her in dim pastels,
all its inventory braised
in a broth of shadow, while
she stroked the cheeks' braille
deep cut as flagstone
worn by the wheel, words nothing
paint would ever say.
Her fingers shortened
like burning candles--she leaned
forward and felt for the
habit of her breath tangled
in the white fold of cloth
he'd thrown over her hip; north light
dappled her eyes; a twitch, a cry
and the studio went dark.
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Elephants Dance in Fancy Pants with (who else?) Karin Gustafson
Karin, also known as ManicdDaily, provides us with some cogent reasons to consider using a word list to aid the creative juices, and then gives us an excellent one. You will find all these words from it above: tomorrow, wrist, braise, basin, hair, rind, inventory, malingers, dapple, and habit. This was quite a different poem before encountering them.
Image: An Artist's Studio, by Konstantin Korovin, 1892
Public Domain, via wikipaintings.org