Art Can Be Naked

by E. Brian Gentry

Dad’s ugly Filipino carving
rocks when you walk too fast
by the piano.
I suppose remembering old voodoo dances.

Scarred from moves and tumbles,
it still demands respect
as the non-speaking member
of our family.

Uncle Dale respected it once
until his fingers noticed the nipple
and his mouth fell
at wooden pornography.

My friends called it quaint
and I asked Mom after they left
but she said it was art
and art can be naked.