Inquisition

1. 

You are my Eire.
She was his Espana.
Like you, she looks
straight out, takes
him to her, I want
to paint
that gaze.
It is all I need.
I work to make
you mine. No one is
so magnificent
in their skin
as burnished olive
in your shadow’s light.

2. Goya:

Yes, it is my work,
I tell the pontiffs
of grief’s perfection.
They listen,
I give them that.
Take off their clothes:
bodies pale, grotesque.
I have no reason
to celebrate
what I see but her
true face concealed,
her body naked
beauty God gave 
all us heretics.

to Karenlee
after Goya’s Maja desnuda

(25 March 2013)

copyright 2013 by Floyce Alexander