Picasso’s Sabine Women, 1962 By Amie Sharp It is ten days since American planes discovered the Soviets are building missiles in Cuba. It is August in the eighth century. Soldier, look down, see the woman clutching her child, her scream rending the air. The infants with their round faces and large feet, the women wailing, flung—their breasts, their hair. They are begging the gods. But the king’s eye is fixed on his rival. He grips his sword—comically large, a cartoon knife. One is Sabine and the other is Roman. One is Russian and the other is American. One is American and the other is North Korean. One is Syrian and the other is Syrian. Shadows falling on the horses’ bifurcated faces, columns pointing to the sky, and everywhere underneath, the trampling.
“Picasso’s Sabine Women, 1962″ by Amie Sharp. Copyright © 2019. Originally appeared in The 64, published by The Black Mountain Press/Halycone Magazine.