Expose Poem by Achim Wollscheid

In my upraised hand I grope the reddest apple
My left hand lies on my left thigh
The only expression I know is stabbing and cold
As the hours pass, my body contracts
From standing in poses for so long
It’s only the artist and I,
He always sits on his stool
Piercing eyes swimming over my exterior
The breeze within the room is cool
And I shiver in my nakedness
Though the sun gleams in my eyes
He finally says, “a little to the right”
With eyes burning, full of inspiration
I’m just confident for this moment
But I was shy when I first arrived
This large white mysterious room
Smells of sitting coffee
It’s almost pleasant in a sense
If someone would just pick up a broom
And sweep away all the ground bunnies
Perhaps I could feel content,
Not wishy-washy as I have been
And he mutters a word or two under his breath
To inform me that he’ll finish off the rest
Not today…but a later day
And here it is, the hardest part
I must return to my unattended clothes
That lay on the floor weeping heavily