Disclosure Of A Famous Woman Poet

  

( For a proper audience) 

At nine decades and one year,

she sat, satisfied
with her looks and her legs
slanted toward the sun.

 She laughed. They need warmth.

even the wild old ones. And then, she said
I have slept with my share
of interesting men.

 The young artist

who painted girls on the edge
of forest or sea. He knew
all about bristles, linseed oil,
plant dyes and wistful dreams
he thought all females  spawned.

( How absurd!)

And the tall  politician
who played chess,
 purchased fragrant cigars.
 but felt ladies should never smoke.

 (Burn him with the trash.)

And yes, there were others, but none
were as rousing  as the starling
who caged himself
in the rose briar
near my  bedroom window. He was

the reincarnation

of  Mozart’s bird. His whistle
the whim of a flute. His feathers black
 as the olives he once  pecked
on  a fine china plate
along with some goat cheese
crumbling into white decay.

Much like his master’s mind
that had become obsessed
with a new mistress, a young woman
I wish had been – a fluent version,
an unlaced poem of me.

Tired, she rolled her high cheekbones
as if to summon a blush
and looked out the window.
______________________________________

This poem was a character sketch of a fictitious 91 year old poet who had the wild grace and Bohemian zest of Dorothy Parker, Edna Vincent Millay, George Sand, Isadora Duncan and other daring women artists who defied social boundaries to pursue their art and express themselves openly. Done in a tongue and cheek manner, the poem takes its cue from some of  the wit and caviats of 93 year poet and winner of the Ruth Lily Award, Marie Ponsot.  The artwork is by German Painter, Heinrich Vogeler -- also the implied artist/lover in the poem.