Virgin
“I turn thirteen this year, & everyone says I'm
the next sacrifice. They begin planning the
ceremony, holding auditions for who will
sound the gong, who will tie my limbs.
The morning of my last day I beat the dirt
& scream, why must it be this way? The queen
of monsters will enjoy this one, they say.
I wish you all were dead, I yell. Then they tie
my arms for real & start dancing. The monster
queen soon comes & unties me. I hate them,
I tell her as she carries me into the forest, I
hate my parents. But she must not understand,
she just pets me until my hair comes out. She
pets me until I am old like them.”
Trente Ans Ou La Vie En Rose, Raoul Dufy, 1931
I decide to move out again, into just one
corner. It's hard, but I choose the pink one,
with the pink painting & clear vase of pink
flowers. So now everything else is behind me &
soon I'll have no idea of what's taking place.
There could be a wife who has cold pancakes
on Sundays, children with wooden toys who
grow up, a whole town awaiting a birth. & I'll
be left alone with my work. Right now it's a
dance piece in which I take off all my clothes
& quietly become a triangle.
