Cover photos are by Stephanie White

First Things

Tricia Yost

Pygmalion

After shutter’s slow close
and opening, she walks toward the water’s edge
where rough currents claw at the stable earth.
Direct light laces a loose lock of hair. A slow wind
blows Gertrude’s skirt free.

Alice holds still. She watches her
sway, a dove in white dress
against floral drop. White
complements green. Wisps of hair
against straight stems. Tender
footprints across the lawn meeting tender pull
of water. Her body—
a white figure against a blue sky, against
green earth.

Alice tries to mimic the moment:
in formal dress beneath wandering
leaves, she leans herself, imagines
casts of light weave down her dark hair.
She tries to imagine art as enough, her photographs
of Galetea—no—of Gertrude—alive, pulsing.
She knows it is not enough.

She steps close to the trunk and pulls
two arms of branches around her.
Only her eyes peer from between bark
and leaf. Gertrude hears rustle.
She resists the water’s lure.
Skin warm from the sun, she returns
to the shade, passing Alice.
As she does, Alice reaches out, but withdraws,
Gertrude has no flaws that Alice wants
to smooth, it’s herself she wants to perfect.
Hers is the art of concealment,
the perfect pose
beautiful but separate
from fingers or lens.

1-882983-92-0
40 pages/$9