Wednesday, 24 April 2013

Good Day, Mr Gauguin

You tilt your beret's slope to match the mud-brown hood
of the first among the townsfolk's women to welcome back
your gaucho legend to the South Breton seaboard.
Burnt sienna pasture enflames the mussel-blue skies
of pebble-sized hail and the light that creams our chimneys.

You remove the umber richness of your cloak. Now tell us
how the Martinique sun swirled cadmium-yellow
around your palette. Remind us of the swagger you cut
through Creole society. Give us what we secretly crave:
wholesale lascivious lushness, green as a ripening love-apple.

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