Linda Pastan (1932 - / New York / United States)
Poems by Linda Pastan : 18 / 20
Vermilion
Pierre Bonnard would enter
the museum with a tube of paint
in his pocket and a sable brush.
Then violating the sanctity
of one of his own frames
he'd add a stroke of vermilion
to the skin of a flower.
Just so I stopped you
at the door this morning
and licking my index finger, removed
an invisible crumb
from your vermilion mouth. As if
at the ritual moment of departure
I had to show you still belonged to me.
As if revision were
the purest form of love.
Linda Pastan
Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003
Read poems about / on: flower, love
Poems by Linda Pastan : 18 / 20
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Prime example of a mother's sentiments. Comforting.
Although I like the notion that revision is a form of ownership and in some sense an EXPRESSION of love, I disagree that expression of ownership is love in its purest sense. Not a very idealistic version of love, I don't think. I don't know.
Bloody deep piece of writing, portraying so forcefully the sentiment of rapidly evaporating love. And the painter adding one last finishing touch parallel nails this piece, Lind. F**k, you're good! Are you ever coming back? Warm regards, Gina (scoring this at 10) .
You have not received the attention you deserve as a poet. Such a shame, that more have not read and commented on your work. I will see what I can do about that :)
Would love to hear from you. No biography? ?
Kind regards
Gyp's
The more I read this the more I like it and agree with the sentiment.