When Nothing Remains
(for Kasia)
Today, I think, I’d like to have you pose
surrounded by abundant store and riches,
surrounded by elaborate head-dresses,
water-heavy pearls and silken hose.
I want you in the dark, holding a rose,
among bronzes, candlesticks and vases,
vases from which a balmy steam arises
into a Great Dane’s dilating nose.
Rembrandt, doubtless, must have felt this way
when painting Saskia in a velvet gown
as she approached her death before his sight—
as if with grapes he could prolong her stay,
as if he wished to weigh her beauty down
with the luminescent heft of candlelight.
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