Poetry Porch: Poetry


by Lee Evans

         —after Francois Boucher

I tramped through the woods,
The image of a painting
Dazzling my vision,
Like the noonday sun stared at
With presumptuous folly—

Seeking that lovely
Bare leg raised like my ardor,
Aching for contact,
Breathless for her breathing form:
Wilderness was my reward.

It is just as well:
If my dreams had come true,
What would have happened?
I would have crossed the fine line
Between the ideal and the real.

She would have killed me,
If I had come upon her
Not because her guard was down,
Her warlike demeanor dropped

With her proud wardrobe,
But because I’d seen the look
In her dull eyes;
Her flesh so desirable
She seemed without desire,

With an innocence
Bordering on stupidity.
And before I’d guessed
There was nothing there but paint
Stroked upon a canvas void,

I’d have been struck dead
By the arrows of her wrath:
The indignation
Of a deity unveiled
Without due adulation.

Copyright © 2014 by Lee Evans.