The air is stagnant in the crowded living room.

Plastic leaves erect from the synthetic tree,

Hidden in the corner of the room,

By dark velvety shadows.

A right leg of the plush couch in the middle of the room,

Melts into a zebra carpet,

Which sinks into the leopard matting.

The couch embraces her body.

Thick blankets cling to her curves encompassing her long physic.

The wall behind her is as blue and vast as the ocean,

A royal blue,

Wide and a deep enough to have her carried away.

The blue wall fighting for the viewer’s attention

But the fluorescent lights graze over her silky skin,

Stopping to greet her

And lightly kiss and caress her cheek.

Her dark skin radiating from afar.

She lounges like the goddess Venus

Exemplifying love, sex, and beauty,

All in one entity.

Her head tilted back,

Eyes closed,

Lips sealed,

Body still,

While her hand rests underneath her heavy head.

Her legs jetting on the end of the couch,

While her thick thighs stick together,

And tranquillity is being admitted from her gesture.

Her body tangled in her red blouse

The undone silk

Which Leaves her chest exposed.  

Her soft nipple protrude out

Just like Trajan’s column stands tall.

A bouquet rests in her hand,

Full of delicate petals,

With inflated roses and leafs bundled together,

Suffocating each other, while thirsting for water,

Hanging from the side of the couch

Flowing down onto the leopard carpet

Like the waters that run down the Trevi Fountain.

(Tang, March 21, Mickalene Thomas, Madame Mama Bush, 2012)