VENUS OF MEADOWVIEWMy body was round once,my stomach an inner tubein the sea of my pregnancy.Even my legs inflatedto keep me afloat with childas I looked down and watchedmy breasts drifting frommy center of gravity to my son's.Now there is nothing left,save a few ripples of fleshand some silver streaksthat emerge when I bathe.But I remember my belly floating.I remember holding onto it for life.
NUDIST LADY WITH SWAN SUNGLASSESI didn't come to this campto advertise my body,just to let it air outand loose all its stays.So when that swan leapt at melike my own tomcat in heat,I was annoyed.But I can tell you now,swans do not sing sweetlybefore they die.The sound is more likea tire going flat,or flatulence.These glasses are my trophy.I carved them from what was leftof that swan's bill and bonesafter I got through with him.They don't really countas clothes.
EARTHENWARE FERTILITY FIGUREBreasts erect with milkare firm and hard and burnwhen there is no child to suckthe fire out of them. Theyexaggerate the clay flesh,explain the open mouthajar with labor pains and leadus to the eyes, half closed,caught in a grimace thatevery woman wants to wearif she wants to bear the childthat will climb out of her bellyand back on top of it to suckthe milk right out of the earththat forms the human figure.
GREEK TORSO, 5TH CENTURY B.C.Even without the insinuated head,she has all the plastic essentialsmale artists have been duplicatingfor two thousand years:two breasts separated by a chisel,the sculpted mound of a stomach,and a line of demarcation at the legs.Some man air-brushed the sexothers since then have been tryingto flesh out without upstaging the penis.But I like how her knees turn in,compressing the weight of her thighs,and how one breast is smaller.