1.
In the first photo
Five women crowd
Around one.
The ten hands indicate
She is being fitted
For a coral bra.
Her right hand covers
Her left breast.
The mouths of her attendants
Are lush. Or are not.
Their lips are closed. Their lips are full.
Their hands, at work, conceal.
Two are at each of her shoulders
Sour mythological guardians
Coveting their charge.
They stare beyond her,
Beyond the camera,
As if they are looking
To dispute perception.
Two stand at the edges:
One of these bites her fingers like a girl.
The other is trimming her glance. A director,
Or mother. The critic.
Her disdain is clear, the black in her eyes sharp.
2.
The neighboring photo shows women dancing.
Its title is “Disco.”
They are not dancing.
Their bodies are straight.
Here or there a hand
Turns to the side, its fingers
Weakly splayed. They are thin.
They look to be moving
In jest, their smiles,
At each other, are beyond
The view of the camera.
I think about which one I would choose.
(I am alone.
There is no one else at the museum.)
Perhaps the tallest.
Her body is a reed
With nothing to hold.
Her one curve is awkward.
It begins at the base of her spine
Before it falls away, ignored.
Her back is straight
And turned to the camera.
3.
In the eyes of a facing photo
There is something of sadness.
I do not swell with pity,
The sickening misfit
Of shame and fear,
Though I catch myself in temptation:
What happens to the mind
When the body is sold?
Her eyes look down.
Her body is turned
Toward the camera.
A study of sympathy.
4.
Two women lie naked with each other.
This is fun, they smile.
They are in the sister trade.
All that is asked is that their
Bodies be stripped of hair,
That the hair on their heads be untied,
That their bodies can overlap.
I am proud of their bodies.
(I am alone.) No one else is at the museum.
They look at me
As if they were expecting my interest.
5.
I wouldn’t choose
To be one who sees.
Instead, the one whose grin
Is wide over a round belly.
She wears plastic, colorful bracelets.
She is adorned. Her hair is thick and down.
I think her body and her mind
Are together: Imagine fantasy.
Her legs are spread wide,
As are her arms, a hand on each knee.
She looks into the camera.
6.
I am alone. There is no one else at the museum.
Vision, oh vanity, exalted.
I am in Asia. I am sex.
I am an American photo.
The camera sees me and snaps.
I am framed. I am pitied. I am undressed.
I am the dancing worker. My hands are thin.
The curves in my body disappear.
My breasts and lips are full,
Or are not. Anything is wanted. Everything is
want.
The women, the work, the exhibition, the art.
