Portrait

let’s only wear colours

that resemble the sea or the sand –

bleached, body-warmed

linen is only calm

when it’s ironed –

feverish when creased

heated together, we can make 

enough art to last

decades of dullness

promise me a soft life,

a crackling fire

that spits when it wants –

urging us to deepen

our laughter, unbutton

our restraint

i have always wanted

to know the true

meaning of batwanes beek*,

always thought play

keeps life sweet

promise me we will hang

a portrait of Venus

on the stairway wall,

her ringlets seeping

into our cream-coloured home,

amber-loud against the plain,

the grace of her hand

resting on her breast,

quiet as a caressing sheet

the whole décor whispers nude

promise me every indecency

is right here, untucked,

unpunished – that i don’t

need to hide the subtle

violence of Eve, her hunger

her open mouth

undressing only happens

in love – everything we wear

clings tight to our awkwardness

when the paintings chip,

my eyes wrinkle, you don’t have

a way with your hands,

erotica will have its way

we will bless our frailness,

our messiness, our dreamy tastes,

we will paint our bodies

with clay, sun-dried,

sacred with our shape

*batwanes beek is a famous arabic song by warda.