Seated Draped Figure Pyramidal, your self-hood falls– slides down your curved and parted hair, rolling over shoulder hip and thigh to meet in folded fabric at your feet. To gaze… to tilt… I too am falling, that sideways-dipping motion pulls me down to thump, heavy, on a seat of marble. My body ripples, coated in a silken gown and soothed by the softest stone. Who calls? A name rings out and mine is the arm that lifts. Suspends. Considers. Draped and Duncan-like, I sit, sensing some invasion sweet with kinship. I have stolen her body, your pose, the space of four hundred years pressed flat like thin red chalk lines tinged with moss. Pyramidal, my self-hood falls– settles. I stand and leave your gallery, still tilting, considering, silk residue on my skin and marble underfoot. Maya Slocum Maya Slocum is a New-England based writer, dancer, and ocean lover. She sees her poetry as an extension of her lived experience, and often draws on her relationships with humans, movement, and the natural world as starting points for her work.
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December 2024
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