Coitus, 1915, Egon Schiele
I remember fondness dirtier.
The stark contour, your touch. The things we’ll do
bereft of nerves. The light’s hard. The rug burns.
Where would I look for comfort in a body?
A lover’s full weight only disappoints
me. Damp breath on my mouth.
Here, a contour uneasy
and unashamed. Still, there’s no comfort—
Is that the erotic?
The unblinking revelation?
No belonging can lovers find.
No comfort found inside us.
We could conform then
to one another. Your touch always
heavy-palmed. Your gaze brazen, defiant
in wanting. Timidity is a cheap vice.
an insolence. We should be well-worn
as the floorboards and as
Publab Fellow 2023
Klaus Andrieu is a poet and an essayist raised in Northern California. He holds an MFA in creative writing from the University of California, Davis. His writing interests include California nature poetry, eroticism, myths, and mysticism. He currently lives in Berkeley, California.
Egon Schiele (1890-1918) was a significant artist of Austrian Expressionism known for his figurative works, self-portraits, and portraits.