PORTRAIT by Matisse
Homage
Yours is a music
of morning sunlight:
a shaft of wheat,
but also the mood of a pale moon,
the blue of the town madam
on Christmas eve.
You, poet of crayon
and cutout and glue,
dance me through October dew.
It is champagne-colored,
lighter than swallows in flight,
a thought at rest.
I slip onto your easel
dressed in the scarlets
of mad words and open sores.
Even when you set me
against a background
not exactly white,
men smile at me.
The laughter in your hands
is contagious after all.
Copyright 1978-2009 Maureen E. Doallas
All Rights Reserved.
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2 comments:
oh, it is getting late, and family is calling out with their noises that say is getting close to bed time. i just wanted to stop by for a quick hello, and to see your blog. i will try and return for another visit in the near future.
In 1978, you got him exactly right. Like this.
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