“Café-Concert at Les Ambassadeurs,” 1876–77 by Edgar Degasi have a red dres
“Café-Concert at Les Ambassadeurs,” 1876–77 by Edgar Degasi have a red dress and no eyes.i have a dress that is bloodred and i have eyes that don’t blinkwhen the balcony sucks in. my dress is a beetswollen with thought, and hangs like a bodyon my body. i have eyes that don’t blinkat being seen. i was halfway finishedbefore i saw i’d begun. my dress dripsdown the center. my eyes are needle holesand my dress is an over-red thread. i hangmy words in the air by their feet, limpand damp, and my dress is my only laughthat is actually red. my eyesare the backs of moons and afterwards menjest us like children, and smoke,and women who have been my dress circletheir stomachs with their hands.i’m an actress. this is not my mothertongue. i have a dress that isyellow. my lines are written by a parisianman. we met in london. i came dancingout like god upon a crimson wave. my dress hunglike a question or a suddenness. he wrote mecoming out this way, he says, to make melike a lioness. the constellations are fullof dead women, he says. he saysmy dress is the coat of a great lion.i turn like the blood insidea rose. the crowd is a great gasp. i can feel myselfbecome a pear. it’s as if you haven’t takenpills, he says. i still have that dress.it’s not too blonde or red. you can graspit with your eyes, he said, the way you wear it. Keith S. Wilson, “Impression of a Rib” -- source link
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