El Corazon de Picasso - An Exhibit
I came home today, awash with Picasso –
having a gouache crush on his paint-splattered pants.
He who treated life like a never-ending contemplative breakfast,
after the tendrils of her night had inspired him.
If now were then, I'd push her off her chair
and take him back to bed.
I hear he knew Blue hunger for a time,
But can never seem to grieve the canvases burned to survive that Paris winter.
They fueled him far beyond the hour of desperate warmth.
And the Roses that followed, (for the usual manly reasons)
are worth more than summer.
So, I have fondled my morning toast and coffee.
While having these thoughts, taken her place as his spent lover.
And wait like a still life fruit,
ripe with the telling of his gifts.
Jean has had previous poetry acceptances in several online and print magazines, including
After Hours Press, Dark Matter Journal, Inside Out - A Literary and Travel Journal, and
also maintains a blog about whatever moves her.
She lives in Chicago with her family, and subscribes to the adage, "All things in moderation - except poetry."