Tableau Vivant, by Lora Berg

The Birth of Venus, by Sandro Botticelli (Italy) c. 1486

Tableau Vivant  
  
In the shower, I pose as   
Boticelli’s Birth of Venus:   
1. Weight on the left foot,   
point the right, dancer-like.   
2. Place right hand over   
left breast, let left hand    
be the fig leaf -- and   
3. Venus glides to shore   
on a giant scallop shell   
propelled by West Wind.   
  
In the masterpiece,  
she arrives all alabaster,  
head tilted, copper tresses  
rippling like fur, gold-flecked   
eyes seemingly benign,  
Goddess in human skin, or   
painter’s inner woman, or 
an aging-woman- 
under-waterfall’s illusion.  
She glows. I try.  
  
Compared to her centuries, 
I’m the babe in this sea.   
In Greek, she’s Aphrodite,   
thousands of years old.   
She’s the truly ancient one.   
Q: But how was Venus born?   
A: She rose from sea foam   
where Uranus’ testicles (!) 
were tossed by Cronos,   
the Titan of Time —  
  
a slight wobble on my axis —   
time’s dangerous, but  
I’m careful not to slip.    
Boticelli’s dawn sky’s pastel;   
roses dive and soar like gulls.   
Instead, draped around me,   
I imagine an incandescent,   
twilit heaven, for a few   
moments more, and then  
it’s time to turn off the water. 

Lora Berg

Lora Berg has published a collaborative poetry book with visual artist Canute Caliste, and poems in Shenandoah, Colorado Review, The Carolina Quarterly, etc.  She served as a Poet-in-Residence at the Saint Albans School and holds an MFA from Johns Hopkins. Lora served as a U.S. Cultural Attaché at U.S. Embassies abroad and has lived in several countries.  Lora is a 2022-23 participant in the Poetry Collective based at Lighthouse Writers Workshop in Denver. She is a proud mom and grandma.