Monkey Nipples and Angels

painting by fernando botero

monkey nipples & angels


What beauty is this, the body?

A temple, ransacked by rabid weasels.

She cups a breast, fingering an ochre nipple
with a chipped half painted nail,
asking herself silent
What was it they said in Virginia Woolf?

Monkey nipples---

made them giggle in English class, but now
gnarled, gummed by hungry mouths, uneven

& lower, thighs once, spider vein
cracked canvases hips that cradled children,
the chalice, now hollow.

Newton's law has spoiled the apple sauce

Eye to eye, she looks for any glimpse
of the girl that turned heads and more,
finding naught,

is this the volume Botero sought,
as he painted,
tangible in every way?

no.

no. No. NO. NO.

I think he saw her, even in ways she was unwilling,
beyond the fortune teller fool's gold found
in the lies of the mirror, sold silicone illusions
or brays of ignorant jackasses
and

upon leaving the bathroom
she will cook breakfast,
pack lunches, tote kids off to school,
kiss her spouse on the cheek, fold clothes,
wash dishes until fingers wrinkle,
go to work, then come home to cook & clean

but when exhaustion sets in
and her eyelids no longer refrain,
she dreams lacquered wood floors,
room upon room,
and a bench where she sits

looks up and sees this painting,
really sees this painting
for the first time.

Brian Miller

Posted over on his site Way Station One