After the Painting by Gustave Courbet 

Sheet pulled up over your arms and your head,

Thighs open wide and pudendum on show, 
I can’t help thinking you look like you’re dead.

  

Awkwardly sprawled on a grubby old bed, 
Sallow and silent as any Jane Doe, 
Sheet pulled up over your arms and your head,    

You’re not a girl but an object instead.
Would you have freely exposed yourself so?
I can’t help thinking you look like you’re dead.  

 

Please don’t explain to me that I’ve misread

X, y and z in this picture: I know.

Sheet pulled up over your arms and your head,

Voilà-your public identity’s shed,    
You’re Everywoman. I get it, although
I can’t help thinking you look like you’re dead.   

Few paintings feature a girl with legs spread,  
Flaunting the parts that she has down below.  
Sheet pulled up over your arms and your head, 
I can’t help thinking you look like you’re dead.

Origin of the World

© 2019 by Rob Stuart