PHOTOCOPY OF THE DANCER HELENE VANEL

A POEM BY SARA FOWLER

Her body is a star.

Look at the angle
she is outstretched awry from the plane
of this surviving doc. Forty-five degrees
her
white dress flashing, emitting and absorbing

light. Star. Dress like
strips of bedclothes,
a shredded nightgown,
the opposite of straight jackets.
A song. A star.
The kind drawn next
to an answer. What is a yowling, troubled troubling, deeply controlled in her, this
performance.

This doc,
her insuck of breath, her limbs extending in
all directions
as she takes air into her thrust chest.
And it is her
throwing the gaze
back and up
into another world.

Her lips slide
across cold teeth.
Her sidebody beckons through a slit.
Or is that window collage?

 

Artwork © Cindy Rehm

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