The Visitor – A Poem

It’s her breasts and not so much her eyes that draw him in

though if he were a better man  – he reasons –

he would lose himself in those shimmery amber orbs

and not linger on those pale rising breasts

or the autumnal hair

cascading over her left shoulder like a living thing

a possessive sable coveting one perfect pink nipple.

She looks peaceful almost content in that thick skirted

aubergine dress.

She reminds him of an exotic flower – resplendent –

on a hard chair the colour of walnuts.

A warm light lingers in the background

a little fogged but nevertheless encompassing.

He knows little if anything about her

although it is said, she was the artist’s first wife

taken by a plague before reaching adulthood.

He’ll keep returning until he feels he sees her

but in truth she is hiding in that ambient room

under layers of pigment.

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14 thoughts on “The Visitor – A Poem

  1. Did you write this with a specific painting in your mind? Some portraits are captivating. Pulling the audience in by mesmerizing eyes or other allures. Thanks for the share, Yolanda.

    • No, just a specific period mid 18th century where women wore very low cut gowns and rouged their nipples. A time of opulent and vivid paintings mostly of kings’ mistresses 😉

  2. Wow, this is beautiful Yolanda. I was really touched by the ending, not expecting that. Gorgeous imagery crafted for the senses and the sensual, yet also steeped in unrequited longing. Powerful…lovely…

  3. This was a short story in truly perfected wording. Not too many, just enough to let the imagination wander, the ending like a wonderful, marvelous surprise! Yolanda, this is as good as Edgar Allen Poe’s short stories. Or the story/movie, “The Portrait of Dorian Gray.” Thanks for this to help me relax, feed the kitties at my friends’ house one more time, lie down with a book and sleep. It was like the appetizer to my book! smiles

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