Posing For Picasso Poem by Suzanne Hayasaki

Here I sit
In my favorite chair
Curled up like a kept cat
Basking in the southern sunlight.

There you stand
Paintbrush in hand
Staring at me intently
As if you intend to dissect me.

It is as though, unable to absorb me whole,
Body and soul, you break me up
Into basic shapes and colors
And tell yourself you are creating.

It may please you to turn away
From what makes me real.
You may need to believe
That I exist most truly in your mind.

But I, too, see you in the abstract.
I, too, take from you what I need
And discard the rest like the robe
I drop at my feet when I pose for you.

So call me your muse
And say you adore me
And I will enjoy the fruits of your labor
In this cozy little home of ours.