Scotland

Robbo55@aol.com

Picasso's Red Armchair


her head is split
with snoring -
she has toppled her trust
into a room of cushions
and overstuffed certainties

her necklace
keeps her respectable
as full lips open
and her transparent breasts
rise and cast shadows
across the cracked ceiling

the room is prized apart
by soft round elbows
and dreaming shoulders

her thoughts spill
down the back
of the antimacassar
and follow the curved embrace
of another world

the warm pad
of a slow arm-rest
returns her to a thought
of Pernod and herself


fingers spread happy
feeling the shape
of a ripe womb

© Copyright 2001, Robin Lindsay Wilson.
All Rights Reserved. Printed By Permission.