Going Dutch
Going Dutch
When they come for me,
tell them I'm not here.
Say I've moved.
Say, if you like,
that I live at the Tate
(Modern or Britain is immaterial).
When pressed, be vague.
Say you might have overheard me mutter
something about the National.
Scandalize them - say I'm sunbathing nude
with a bunch of Rubenesque belles,
or I'm babysitting for Mary
while she whips off down to the market
to pick up a new blue robe.
Say I've bunked off to Venice
for the carnival with Tiepolo.
Bore them to death with a lecture
on pointillism or chiaroscuro.
But whatever you do,
don't mention sunflowers,
or little yellow chairs
or they'll catch me
skiing down the sides of wavy cypresses,
or whooping it up
with a crowd of golden stars!
Margaret Clerici
with a crowd of golden stars!
Copyright © Margaret Clerici | Year Posted 2009
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment