imprint the swinging air...

from my anthology of must read (a)merican poems

X. J. Kennedy

Nude Descending a Staircase


Toe upon toe, a snowing flesh,
A gold of lemon, root and rind,
She sifts in sunlight down the stairs
With nothing on. Nor on her mind.

We spy beneath the banister
A constant thresh of thigh on thigh—
Her lips imprint the swinging air
That parts to let her parts go by.

One-woman waterfall, she wears
Her slow descent like a long cape
And pausing, on the final stair
Collects her motions into shape.

*

Kennedy’s poem – and I first encountered it in my teens, such an ideal time – has always struck me as words in perfect play, and in step with their subject – in this case, Marcel Duchamp’s masterpiece, Nude Descending a Staircase, No. 2 (1912) – a painting that rattled the world.


The poem is in constant motion in its language, creating a sharp landscape: toe upon toe, she sifts in sunlight, we spy beneath the banister, a constant thresh of thigh on thigh, imprint the swinging air. We are compelled to see – not just read – this poem. “One-woman waterfall” is exact in its description, and leads to a stop that, like the painting, forever holds its subject in motion. An impossibility – but there she is in the poem – and in the painting.

There’s not one wasted word in this stunning lyric. A pinnacle moment for the poet.

*

Thanks to Laurel K. Dodge for posting the painting.