Alice Rose George

July 11, 2013 Alice Rose George



I’m hammering nails into the stretchers,

oblivious to the white-fleshed seated nude,

crowned with yellow-white hair, her upward

gaze from the model’s chair, red flowers

at her side and a white haze behind, unaware

that she exists only a few feet high and wide,

an emotional world  unto itself, on canvas,

like to the cross, nailed in forever.


She, on the cusp of aging, poised

in a room of hydrangeas and gauze,

awkward in her painted innocence,

expectancy in the uplifted eye

from her bamboo chair, red flowers beside,

light, internal or fluorescent, in a haze

of sunlight, she, fragile as oyster flesh,

while I nail the frame to lift her into the room.

Alice Rose George’s collection of poems Ceiling of the World was published by Spuyten Duyvil.  Poems have appeared in The Paris Review, The New Republic, Bomb, Fence, Bellevue Literary Review, Western Humanities Review, The Atlantic Monthly, Dear Dave, and other publications. She lives in New York City and works as a photography editor and curator.