Andrea Jurjević

Pillow Talk with Modigliani’s Kneeling Blue Caryatid

In his mind's eye there was no room for background, her dress on the floor,
or a dumb fruit bowl her hand dipped into, nothing

but Akhmatova's cosmic geometry. He took in each curve and shadow of her
body to the point that within her light he saw an entire world—свет within
светлый, world within light.

It's as if he kissed the glistening mouth of those galaxies and knocked them
back until they were all he knew. Drunk, euphoric artist. Just like god

must be asleep in his recliner, dreaming of us coiling like a twist of citrus in
his midnight drink.

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