Paul Twice, 1978, 60 x 90cms, charcoal on paper.

IV. Paul Twice

She looked once and had to look long and again.

She’s drawn in by my heavy grace. She’s freed that mirror-self to dance with me, on the other side, where we both gaze into the night. Like Jean Genet’s sailor in ‘adame Miroir I pang for pleasure in her corporeography. She knows the erotics of the latent, of the gesture borne in the fevered recesses of dream.

Now darkness moulds my bold volumes, my granitic density. She curves but doesn’t curb me, in the space between –

man            woman

Faunesque will be, heaving this heavy to light – the music springing me from me, arcing for future desire, where the arabesques are drawn.

Beyond the mirror is the waiting chorus of amorous selves.