Depersonalization A very old, and



A very old, and I fear, very imperfect poem, that still manages to convey most of my intent. It is one of those things that you keep digging up to work one, and yet it never seems to achieve exactly the effect or balance you have in mind, and so, you let it go anyway. Sometimes, one needs to settle for merely good enough.

La Dame Fichue (The Demolished Woman) Steven Riddle

We surgeons click
pieces back together
like pearls on a waxed strand.
The winding thread of sand
where we found bits
of the Demolished Woman
artfully dissected,
but not skillfully.
This Guernica model reject
lolled on the beach
perhaps awaiting a painter.
We surgeons in our rubber gloves
gathered her up with tongs
and put the bits in plastic pails
knowing we would not reassemble her.
But spread her out more beautifully
than had been done before
and wait for her to dry.
We would perfect this exploded woman
and ship her off, nicely
latinized, and preserve only the memory
of our perfect art, pure and clean.

c 2002 Steven Riddle

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This page contains a single entry by Steven Riddle published on September 12, 2002 8:21 AM.

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