she does not in the end
wish to be exposed
to a pleasure garden
full of false repose
sex isn't everything
she insists on being known
as she waits trembling
on the edge of love
don’t say anything
to force a lie
age is selective
it has no time
for questions
impatient or unkind
she
sits
is
she (her sex, what type of woman, attempt at gratification)
sits (posture, pose, how her body weighted, spreads, on display, on what: sofa, chair, couch, ground, sculpture history of)
is (existence, pressure of existence, assumption of consciousness, present)
gossip spread
among friends
from whom
malice sprung
whose bitter fund
for want of pruning
spoilt the fun
he weeps softly
beside the nadi
the sweep
of blessedness
receiving the body
the wood was costly
but his brothers body
is safely interred
in god
nothing here
gives much away
but a print
of chrysanthemums
by claude monet
surprises me
in this cafe
a clutch of women
console each other
his brush
snatches light
to express it in colour
the speech of the women
old yarn
stuck
in the weave of time
his signature
of bold carmine
only an eye
by god
but what an eye
just let him try
then he’ll see
he'll see
the woman carrying
a scar too monstrous
to rescind
to ease her suffering
the women share feelings
the flowers meet themselves
in a pool of being
until at last,
given sight
they are speaking