PAINTED LADY.

HENRY STUDIES A PAINTED LADY.

Henry wonders who the woman
In the painting is. Painted by
Bouguereau it says beneath the

Frame. He knows the name, but
Has no knowledge of the dame.
Beautiful though, he muses,

Taking in the features and colours
Of the face, the dark hair tied in
A simple bow, the eyes alive and

Lips seem amused by something
Beyond the work. He stands back,
Takes in a different perspective,

Focuses on her nakedness below
The neck partially painted, but
Seemingly left undone. He moves

Up close and draws his finger
Down her throat in imitation of
An art. No one else in in this part

Of the gallery, there is stillness in
The air. He leans forward and kisses
The shoulder of the painted dame.

No one has seen, no guardian of
The works comes running over, no
Alarm rings. She reminds him of some

Dame he knew in Chicago, the same
Eyes, neck, and frame of head, but
Now she’s dead and that was long ago.