Chrysanthemums, 1882

nothing here

gives much away

but a print

of chrysanthemums

by claude monet

surprises me

in this cafe

a clutch of women

console each other

his brush

snatches light

to express it in colour

the speech of the women

old yarn


in the weave of time

his signature

of bold carmine

only an eye

by god 

but what an eye

just let him try 

then he’ll see

he'll see

the woman carrying

a scar too monstrous

to rescind

to ease her suffering

the women share feelings

the flowers meet themselves

in a pool of being

until at last,

given sight

they are speaking