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.


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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