Galatea’s Closet

30 Dec

After John Dryden’s ‘Pygmalion and the Statue’ from Fables Ancient and Modern, 1700.

I was content living in ivory until, carved into this piteous figure of incarnate will
As I woke to a profane, putrid little man fondling at my breasts once again
With filthy black hands bruising my flesh, fervently, hunched over me, this paltry letch
No tender pace across my skin His hurried hands dart and spin
He excitedly stains my porous thighs Stabbing shortly to satisfy his desires
Raging quakes burns my cheeks red Blood pulsing in my ears with dread
I could say nothing to stop this brute Aphrodite animated me, but kept me mute

His eager gaze burns my eyes wet My nostrils fill with the scent of his sweat
Fearful to blink and miss what comes next I wonder how to unmake him, leaving my hex
Grabbed so forcible, with revolting intent I want to crush him under my stony footprint
I’m kept in a closet stacked with shelves, with his collection of rarities, flowers, and shells
Plucked, looted, stripped, and arranged to look attractive Birds squawk from cages, welcoming a fellow captive
He pulls me off my plinth onto the tiled floor I refuse to be his virgin idol whore
He leads me to his bed, and I promise myself a plan Cultivate a seed that will rot his impending clan

Image 1: Rembrandt Harmensz van Rijn, The Artist Drawing from the Model. Etching and drypoint, c. 1639. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Shared under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-Share Alike 4.0 International (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0) licence.

Image 2: Rembrandt Harmensz van Rijn, The Artist Drawing from the Model. Pen and brown iron-gall ink with brown wash and touched with white, on paper washed brown. c. 1639. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Shared under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-Share Alike 4.0 International (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0) licence.

Published in Ghost Bones, 2022.

This poem is specifically formatted for mobile devices. However, for the best possible reading experience, I recommend reading it on a desktop computer.

— Dr Aimee Blackledge

Aimee Blackledge is an American author and editor who lives in the UK. She has a Master's of Studies (M.St) and a Doctor of Philosophy (D.Phil) in the History of Art from the University of Oxford. She is an Associate Member of the Society of Authors and a Member of the Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading.

For the past 10 years, Aimee has worked extensively across academia as a research associate, lecturer, curator, tutor, and post-doctoral researcher. As a Researcher Developer at the University of Liverpool, she facilitated academic writing retreats and coached researchers in achieving their most ambitious writing goals.

Aimee writes historical fiction about art. Her writing focuses on amplifying the work and perspectives of women. Her latest collection of poems, Ghost Bones, was published under the mentorship of T. S. Eliot Prize winner, Joelle Taylor.

http://www.aimeeblackledge.com

Galatea’s Closet

This poem is specifically formatted for mobile devices. However, for the best possible reading experience, I recommend reading it on a desktop computer.

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The Act, Not the Body