Thrust: A Novel

I began by studying the basic form of the Salem Leg, designed in 1862. I admired especially the joints and the smooth lines of the foot. For Aurora, however, the leg had to have something quite different: it must be beautiful. Beautiful enough to be its own objet, an artwork worthy of museum display. I used rosewood, a favorite of ours—A wood with blood in it, she joked. After devising the basic construction of my own version — its own formidable task — I set about hand-carving the wooden frame, adorning it with roses and vines and gold inlay. I hand-painted bloodred toenails as well. And, after weeks of labor, when I was finally satisfied that it was worthy of her gaze, I bundled and wrapped this precious object and sent it over the ocean to her.

Of course, I never saw her reaction when she opened the package. And she never spoke of it, except in one brief letter she sent by return:

It is said that god created Eve from tsela,   traditionally translated as “one of his ribs.” And yet the term can also mean a curve, a limp, an adversity. Not necessarily a rib at all. Think of that. Perhaps Eve is something more like a limp — in which case we might do well to consider her power to be larger than life, as I have experienced my own limp as a source of insurmountable creative and erotic power.

—

With my first monument commission, I bought Aurora a boardinghouse.

I devoted my life to creating larger-than-life statues.

There are times when I think they are all for her.