Ballet ShoesA Poem by David Lewis PagetI’d known him since we were boys at school So I let him in to the flat, He wasn’t known for playing the fool, I knew him better than that, But he carried a canvas under his arm And he propped it up on a chair, And said I needed to help him out Could I keep the picture there? I stood well back and surveyed the paint It was oil, laid on with a knife, Of a naked woman, with auburn hair He said it was somebody’s wife, She lay at rest on a purple lounge Had shaken her hair quite loose, And all she wore on her wonderful form Was a pair of ballet shoes. ‘Why do I need to keep it here?’ I said, But I didn’t mind, Something about the woman’s eyes Said she was one of a kind. ‘Her husband visits me all the time I wouldn’t want him to see, He doesn’t know that she had it done Or passed the picture to me.’ Marcus gave me a fleeting look But still had the grace to blush, I didn’t want to embarrass him Put fingers to lips, said ‘Hush!’ He left, but said that she might pop in She’d want to inspect the place, To find it suitable, that her skin Was hanging in naked grace. It took a week till she showed her face, Came hurrying in at the door, Her head was covered in widow’s lace, Announced herself as ‘Lenore’, I doubted that was her real name But took her through to my den, The nude hung high on the picture wall, She stood and she said, ‘Amen’. And then she turned and she looked at me And she smiled as if approved, Something about that smile, her eyes, And I felt strangely moved, ‘Would you care to see the original,’ She said, and began to strip, I couldn’t mumble a word, my tongue Was tied and set to trip. She told me to look away until Quite ready for my gaze, I couldn’t imagine what she did It seemed to take for days, I heard her shake out her auburn hair Until well and truly loose, And when I looked, she was naked but For a pair of ballet shoes. David Lewis Paget
© 2016 David Lewis PagetReviews
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