Odalisque
This striptease of self
dance of seventy veils
works only in a poledancing vacuum
where there’s looking not touching
talking not feeling
and so, sinuous and alive as it appears
to a disordered mind,
is a sterile transaction,
a pastied charade, grimed
as the crumpled bills shoved
in a stripper’s thong,
good for another busride to hell.
And this scrawl
isn’t love
only its black ink breath
sighing out the tired gestures
not of an odalisque but of
a broken dancer.
April~June, 2012
Posted for Poetics at dVerse Poets Pub
Posted for Poetics at dVerse Poets Pub
Image: Rashaka Dancer, by fallingwater123 on flick'r
Shared under a creative commons license
dancing for dollar is hard work you know....esp if that is the only place the buck is coming from...that transfers to a lot of jobs...but entertaining and the spot light definitely...deny the slave monicker though but we all carry it in some way...smiles...
ReplyDeleteand there are so many broken dancers...think in work life in general...a great image that can be copied and pasted to all different kinds of professions...the dance is a hard one sometimes, you always have to smile and should be passionate about what you're doing...and another dollar note, put in that thong makes you going again for a bit...good work hedge..
ReplyDeleteThanks, Claudia--this is indeed a metaphor, actually for quite a different sort of striptease. Glad you enjoyed.
DeleteWhen you put it down to the balance of service and compensation, this is indeed perhaps in a class of one of the most difficult jobs in the world. A difficult subject matter, but treated with equanimity.
ReplyDeleteThe sound and song of your words paints the scene so well, the bedraggled existence of a human on display for prurience. Strangely perhaps, I've never been to one of these places, never an inkling to peep or gawk at the display of flesh just a dollar's width away from orgasm. I have known some dancers, andvthe world they lived in was peopled by bikers, gangsters, and drugs. Not a very alluring life, one way or the other it seems to me. Great poem to rake up these concerns.
ReplyDelete"This striptease of self
ReplyDeletedance of seventy veils
works only in a poledancing vacuum"
i really enjoyed those lines, sets the right mood, such an empty lonely feeling, objectified. very well said
Oh, you captured the feeling of "going through the motions" so well. So many in their day to day existences feel this "dead-ness"..what a life.
ReplyDeleteSo good- but what a picture you paint- so sterile, loveless, soulless... A broken dancer- I can onlyimagin you would have to be super skilled at numbing yourself from the constant attention of shithrads who think that a dollar bill in a pair of panties is on the same level as a marriage proposal...such great words here hedge?..but then hold on....we are all dancers aren't we? Dancers on life's difficult stage
ReplyDeleteI think they key line here is the opening one, "a striptease of self". My sense is that this describes not a physical dance, but an emotional one. However, it's not a dance in the sense of two people moving in each other's arms; more, it a peeling of the onion through a glass darkly. For some reason this reminds me of Jethro Tull's song "This Is Not Love."
ReplyDeleteI love the quote at side top of your blog, because it's better tahn what we have.
ReplyDeleteYou always have a impressive write too.
This kind of work would be so draining on so many levels I think. I love these lines:
ReplyDelete"And this scrawl
isn’t love
only its black ink breath
sighing out the tired gestures"
Great writing as usual, Hedge!!
I've got to say the first stanza reminded me of the days of night filling at a supermarket... weren't allowed to talk, or create relationships with those we worked along side just fill the shelves and nothing more... all for a dollar...I didn't last long there. No glamour there, as with dancers I guess but what a wonderful metaphor you create.
ReplyDeletefirst, odalisque is one of my favorite words...
ReplyDeletei love this, both literally and metaphorically, it works on so many levels... writing, sharing our words is its own strip tease of sorts, isn't it?
YES!!! That's exactly what I was going for. Thank you for making me feel I hadn't totally screwed it up. ;-)And thanks for the compliment. I appreciate it.
DeleteI love the title, and from there on out you have created a rare view of how one's work can become one's character.
ReplyDeleteFabulous poem, some fantastic lines!
ReplyDeleteDancing is fascinating! It's an enjoyment and a pastime. To earn one's keep through dancing it would be physically a pure test of strength. There's only one JLo and she combined it with singing and made tons of money! There are countless others left on the wayside!
ReplyDeleteGreat take,Joy!
Hank
Wonderful - but, just wondering... how do you stuff the bills into the thong without touching?
ReplyDeleteObviously I've never been hands on in this situation, Dave. ;_) You mean they don't politely hand them to the dancers?
DeleteIt looks like fun to the naked eye (that was just wrong!), but I've known ladies who've done it, and it is a rough way to make a living. Some love it, but to most it's just a way to make a living; usually in hopes it will get them to a better place.
ReplyDeleteExcellent write on an interesting facet of the prompt.
Have those sultans ever appreciated the dance of these guys, and their breaking?
ReplyDeleteGood you do, and helps us do it too, HW
Great sad piece.
D.
Good lord this is ripe and raw, and you get at this striptease of self examination (?) from an angle I think of too, that it seems more organically appealing than it is, which is just damn hard work. But I argue that it is love, as all attention is, I think, of a sort. I may be off base. Wonderful potent writing, Hedge.
ReplyDeleteGiving away what seems to be almost too much and yet keeping even more locked away from prying eyes...
ReplyDeletei really like the middle stanza a lot very descriptive
ReplyDeleteSonnet 24
Reminds me of that song by The Killers, are we human or are we dancer? Often we are just dancing to somebody elses tune, and we get tired of the same old song and the same old moves, but no matter how we try sometimes the music wont stop and we have to carry on, broken.
ReplyDeleteOuch.
ReplyDeleteAnd even the tired jobs take our ink, with weariness if not love.
To me this felt like the world weariness of the dancing bear on the ball, forever moving, but going nowhere:"a sterile transaction" indeed.
Ah, the sometimes sterile sharings of our creative souls are intelligently captured here Joy. Brilliant as usual.
ReplyDeleteI'm sure this strikes people to the core for different reasons. I know I need to go through my banker boxes and find my divorce papers so I can sleep tonight.
ReplyDeleteI just love this!!
ReplyDeleteThat third stanza is brilliant.
ReplyDelete