Cutting

Standard

cutting origami
 
 
Papa requests that I pose
legs tucked back just so,
back so straight, plagued with pain.

Cutting paper — origami,
he calls it. Japanese
art all the rage now.

The rage — starting its slow march
up my back toward my neck so
prettily posed over aching fingers.

I’ve heard that Degas tortured
his models, pretty little dancers,
made them hold poses for hours
as he worked to ensure them
immortality.

My father could work from
a photograph if he chose,
if he wished to capture the moment
instead of making me
the captive, folded like a
stillborn crane.

 
 
This poem was created in response to a picture prompt from Miz Quickly, using our choice from several paintings by Edmund Tarbell. The picture accompanying this poem is titled Cutting Origami and is in the public domain.
 
 

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6 thoughts on “Cutting

  1. I think it fits right in with the times of the paintings. Where most women were still considered positions. And reminds me of part of the story of current new movie ‘Holmes’.

    Where a man could forbid his wife to fully grieve. Well captured. The last line – so telling.

    I spun a different tale with this prompt. Cheers, Jules

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