Lady In Jack-D Minor

You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley...
Sting


Long and hip-length
I wore my hair,
low and lacey
my blouse to bare

pale shoulders
part of my breast,
I was number
seven -- the best.

Mix of sunlight
and ripe, barley scent,
Jack bottled me
in his lament

for the soft lady
who slipped away
beyond the fields
watching church bells sway

toward the havest sun;
its flight of birds,
of milkweed's breath, some dead
madam's drifting words.

She said I'd become
the sweet pulse of drink,
muse of the whiskey king,
a haunting clink

of glassware, smooth ice.
They'd all toast Tennesee,
girl with a parasol,
and her identity

left undisclosed --that
shadow beyond the door
where the candle's throat
stutters in flame --- paramour.
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Note- The beautiful image is called , "Nostalgia" by French artist, Marie-France Riviere. Visit her gallery for more paintings of this high and evocative calibre. www.griviere.com/expo2000.