Untitled

via

At the centre of the rotting house,

below the naked, hanging bulb,

I lie in the soft, September sun.

There are cracks between the wooden slats,

where memories float towards the surface.

I am twelve and standing in an art gallery.

I am in awe of how each painted frame

is like looking through a hole-

towards another world.

A crescent moon carved on marble-skin.

Jupiter in Virgo (1965), oil on canvas.

I am seventeen and longing to feel something.

I cut myself, deliberately. An open wound

is like looking through a hole-

towards another world.

A decisive slash on an unprimed surface.

Concetto spaziale ‘Attesa’ (1960), canvas.

The sweet, heavy scent of unfolding flesh;

the fear, the filth, the unforgiving red.

I close my eyes

Senem Oezdogan

 Drawn from Nature II (2019)