The Artist at Work
~Hannah Steensma He’s so far away, I can’t even reach him As she wanders his mind in a low-cut blouse And I leave him alone with the muse Angling her shoulders just so, a terrible shame
If he didn’t know the curves and depths Of that flesh, so welcoming and other. I can see in his eyes when he’s been with her Stealing and embellishing each memory-walk.
I fear what she whispers to his heart As he strolls the spring-like cement path With perfect words so well devised She offers what he won’t refuse
So safe behind his eyes she hides While I am stuck inside that gaze. Does my lover see only her This distant other-figure sprawled
Across imagined marriage bed? Eyes locked on me as he wakes From that glazed stare, starting, Her figure dissipating in air
So solid and thick between us. |