It Must Be Time For Lunch Now, 1979, by Francesca Woodman
MAG 137
UNDERNEATH
THE TABLE CAKED WITH FORKS
DIDN'T HOLD A PLACE FOR YOU
YOU WERE HIDDEN UNDER THE FOLDS
ENFOLDING YOU
IN THE ODD GLORY
OF A SPACE NOT QUITE DESIGNED
AS A PERFECT NICHE
YOU SEEK
AND
HID
YOU
DID
BY
DIVINE INTERVENTION
OR
GRACE BEFORE SUPPER
WHO'S THERE TO REMIND YOU OF
YOUR CHILD WITHIN
EVERY TIME YOU
SET THE TABLE
THE FORKS BENT
THE TABLECLOTHE
BARELY COVERED
YOUR REPOSE
SO AS NOT TO BE
SO DESPAIRINGLY
FOR WONT TO BE NAKED
RECENTLY UNCOVERED BY
NASCENT GRACE
WHO CHOOSES TO LIVE WITH
THE IMPOSSIBLE FACT THAT LIFE IS CRUEL
AND INCREDULOUS
AS NIHILIST AS A SPASM
THIS STATE OF BEING
SEEMS A MIGHT
INSIGHT SPACE
AT
THE WRONG TIME
PERHAPS
TO DIE SO YOUNG
AND BY YOUR OWN ARTFUL HAND
DID YOU DESIRE
A LIFE
ON THE LEFT BANK
WHERE VISIONS SEEP IN
LIKE DAEMONES
AND WHO, THEN WOULD LIKE YOU
YOUR ART
WHO'D LOVE YOU
COMPLETELY
NOT JUST IN A PORTFOLIO WAY
CAVALIER IN ANY OTHER PERIOD
LIKELY TO REMAIN
HIDDEN IN FIN DE SIECLE POSTCARDS
KODACHROMATICA EROTICA INSTALLATIONS
POLAROID HID THE QUICK AND THE DEAD
ART ADDICTS WHO ONLY PARTIALLY
HAVE HIDDEN COLLAPSED WALLPAPER
UNDER AND NEAR THESE FREQUENTED PARKS
STREETS HEAVED-HO UP
ALL THIS
EMBARRASSING
TO KEEP ONE'S IMAGE UNDER THE TABLE
THOUGHT THE CRITICS
FUCK THEM
YOU SEEM TO GET\THE ICONOGRAPHY
JUST SO
IN FIRST YEAR ART SCHOOL
DISMAL ONLY SEEMS PAST
BUT CREEPS AND WALKS
ALL OVER THE WALLS
TO ROT ALL\THE JOHNNY ROTTENS
AT OTHER PUNK ROCK SCHOOLS
UNDER STREETS LACED WITH IT
ALL THAT SELLS IS STILL STALLED
SOUL KNOWS ALL
RECALLS NO FEELINGS
THOSE SCANT REMAINS
SAVE BLEAK HOUSE
AN UNLIKELY ESCAPE FROM ONESELF?
DEPRESSION LOOKS LIKE THIS
HEAVY WEIGHTINESS
JUST BENEATH THE SURFACE OF SCRATCH
ALL THAT REMAINS STILL
AS NEED FOR MOTHER FORMS MERGE
WITH A SELF-INDUCED SMOTHERING OF BEING SOMEHOW
HAMPERED AND LOST IN THE SHUFFLE
BY ALL THE PARSIMONY OF THE PROP MISTRESS
REMEMBER DEAR FRANCESCA
DO NOT
THERE IS NO HARBOUR
FOR THOSE LEFTOVER
NO RESIDUAL FEELINGS
LINGERING LONGER
UNDER THE TABLE
HAPHAZARDLY COVERED
WITH A SENSE OF ANGST
MAYBE GUILT
YOU'RE THE LOVELY MUSE
WITH
GILDED WINGS
YOUR PARTIAL INNOCENCE
CONTENT
PHOTOGRAPHIC IMAGE MADE BY FADE INTO BLACK
ART HAD GLITTER BUT GLUTTED THE 80s MARKET
IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT
ONE DAY
SOON
YOU'LL SHINE
LIKE SILVER
MY DEAR
chiccoreal
