assignment
-- to the woman standing in front of Richter's "Woman Decending a Staircase" at the Art Institute of Chicago
Falling, you dragged me in with you,
like Orpheus leading Eurydice out of hell.
I waited for even a glance back at me.
And then we were in it, a tumble
down the stairs, a thud when we hit the floor
echoing off all the walls.
But we were there, still
standing beneath track lights like spotlights
on 50's movie stars
all black and white and
tightly cinched, with just a sliver of ivory between
your shirt and the velvet of your skirt.
A hint of the modern, a comfort,
since I'm not exactly Carry Grant myself.
You never even saw me standing there.
Passersby like paint on canvass
blurred by movement, streaks of suits and skin
while we stood like installations.
Falling, you dragged me in with you,
like Orpheus leading Eurydice out of hell.
I waited for even a glance back at me.
And then we were in it, a tumble
down the stairs, a thud when we hit the floor
echoing off all the walls.
But we were there, still
standing beneath track lights like spotlights
on 50's movie stars
all black and white and
tightly cinched, with just a sliver of ivory between
your shirt and the velvet of your skirt.
A hint of the modern, a comfort,
since I'm not exactly Carry Grant myself.
You never even saw me standing there.
Passersby like paint on canvass
blurred by movement, streaks of suits and skin
while we stood like installations.