3/3 - Explaining Women

Explaining women is a light hearted poem about a latter day rake's progress plus other poems.

(excerpt)

J, with collar up, like a character out of The Third Man
arrived incognito, cigarettes, wine and a Leonard Cohen LP
she kissed the air, to communicate her corrupt intentions
the regal poise of a queen at court, she sat in an easy chair
her husband's cheque book held with the authority of a sceptre
eager to squander the ground beneath his feet
redress his neglect of his treaty obligations

with a body half her age and underwear to match
an ability to quote Ovid, in context and in Latin (I asked)
she offered herself as tribute, in a game of marital chess
to be iconised, her vulva, an apple for the artist's eye
her drama, tempting the snake in her adulterous game
there was no eunuch in this brothel, I studied her
someone else's concubine, insomeone else's harem

in the aquarium of diffused studio light, J posed
visions of neoclassical beauty, impressionist voluptuousness
mine were strictly utilitarian, open thighs directed my eye
sexual gravity, I was sucked in by the black hole of want
she may have considered her offer ripe for the plucking
I saw it as a fish mouth sucking its prey out of a shell
her Cleopatra's grip, firm as a brush in an artist's hand

Japanese geishas were said to be skilled at such art
training and experience enabled her to grip the brush
full of ink, then she would squat, articulate her hips
draw a calligraphic line, reflect the art of moving in coition
J was impressed, there was something else he need not know
secrets piled up over the years, like a rack of old canvases
some masterpieces, some best discarded

in the end, gesso is the artist's greatest friend
J left with her canvas, what she left I whitewashed
ready for another lesson in the interesting age
some just liberated post menopausal feminist
waving her fallopians, streamers at a victory parade
to a man she's a cat looking for a Tom to scratch
to the artist, she's a walking talking vanitas