the Artist as My Husband
18” x 18”
Late at night,
while he sleeps, I paint a picture of my husband. He signs my name
on the changing face of the sea, his painting of my life uncontained
by a frame.
Love of my life, love of your wife, if you are my clown--well, I am your circus.
On the ladder of our love which your stout shoulder steadies, I'm an acrobat
unafraid of falling; if I lose my head, I use my head as a juggling ball. May
the little king of your heart celebrate forever the dominion of childhood on
this planet of joy fragile as a balloon.
Like armor you wear the butterfly of freedom. Like a fool, not a farmer, cast
seeds to creation. Where your fruitful boat journeys, we do not question. On
the face of the clown, is the image of the the yet to be born.
I paint my husband. Yet this isn't my husband; late at night, while he sleeps,
this is my dream.
Let him sign my painting; for the clown is me.