Joan

so, I see their easels at the water from the window
I know his is not, as his is never, with them
seven years I've watched them sadly
watch with them, understanding

joan, my head hurts, my head hurts
joan, I must close the curtain

they will come back in the evening
see the way the sky is changing?
"can you see the color?" he would say to me
"well, of course I see the colors
sea is silver, red and white and..."
"no! you don't look! You don't see!
no, you don't look, you don't see,"

in the squares of sun slanted on the floor
slanted over my feet, joan
this is how he painted me
a halo round me, like our lady
bathed his brush in sun
and blurred my faults away

joan, the sunlight, the sunlight!
joan, I must close the curtain