Rococo Seduction
O lady, banish my monochrome days
and weave your coppery threads into
a dim red florescence of coyote words;
There you stand draped in beige chiffon
against preternatural piety of a striptease sea
continuously playing with Prussian blue pastels.
O lady, gallantly unleash your plump cherubs
and licentious cats with that timeless witchery
of a vanilla Guerlain perfume dart;
Throw a dusty rain-soaked rose, Madame Pompadour;
I am flying into another sugary abyss of setting suns
and Fragonard silks of flickering coral.
Is it the fighting of heavenly dragons? Is it Boucher's
brushstrokes that bring us April showers
and the music of irises and champagne pearls?
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