The Re-echo Club: as by Adelaide Procter (Cubist Nude)

Seated one day at my easel,
I was hungry and somewhat faint,
And my fingers wandered idly
Over the tubes of paint.

I know not what I was drawing,
Or what I was painting there,
But I splotched a Cubic Symbol!
Like a Nude Descending a Stair!

It flooded the crimson canvas
With the gush of a broken dam;
And it lay in sticky masses
Like upset gooseberry jam.

It rioted blazing color,
Like love ballyragging strife;
It seemed the loquacious echo
Of our discordant wife.

It linked all Futurist meanings
Into one perfect cube,
And broke itself up into facets
Like a wreck in a Hudson Tube.

I seek, but I seek it vainly,
That vast, symbolic line,
That came from the head of the staircase
And entered into mine.

It may be that Pab Picasso
Has painted the thing before,
And it may be that only in Bedlam
I shall paint that Nude some more.