Anthony van Dyck, viewed in 2021
Peering over your shoulder,
tapping above a red scarlet sheet,
nothing beneath,
the old man and his son
wait to see the goods.
Milky white
barefoot rocks
and garden hair
twining vines,
shut-off fountain fears the flow,
broken porcelain bird bath bowl,
reputation soiled.
Not every fertile ground
wants seed.
A warm statue
for men to view,
unchaperoned in the park;
enemies by day;
allies by dark.
© 2021 | K.Hartless
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
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