The Artist’s Wife

My sentence is this: to fall in love
with an immortal sort of being
whose eyes may look daily upon me
without ever truly seeing.
My sentence is thus: to pretend to be
one of this destined class;
and so, standing amid such gold,
I paint myself with brass.

Advertisements

What do you think?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s