Thursday, February 12, 2015


(after the painting, Young Peasant Girl with Hoe, by Jules Breton)

Yes, I will sit for you—
there is more to life
than toil from first light
to setting sun.
But, draw me quick,
I have work to do.

You think I’m beautiful?
Then, work your art.
Keep me forever young
because we both know
that I will age too soon,
my face will become as
furrowed as this field,
my hands and feet,
calloused and cracked.
My body that you admire
will grow old and hunched
from this—how did you put it?—
idyllic, rustic life.

I am no fool.
Your painting of me
will hang in some salon
where your friends
and those with money
will praise the quality of your hand
while they look at mine.
But, I know
that when we both are dead
and in this ground,
it will be me that people look at,
and I will look at them from your canvas,
admired in this moment.

No comments:

Post a Comment