Caravaggio Poem by Krista TaltsNassehi

Caravaggio

knelt in admiration of self,
arms outstretched as he tried to embrace
his own reflection in the mirror-still pond,
calm and smooth as glass.

Caravaggio, how did you
know to capture him, none more beautiful than he,
as the arrow of enchantment
mesmerized him, before
the sky dripped into his eyes? Before

his shadow congealed into thunder,
before the sun melted into lightning
and a fanged fish, hungry for his face
lurked in the bullrushes.

Words became distraught howls,
his adored head became a skull,
his hand, a claw grasping images
absorbed in a cloud dark sky
in the unenchanted muddied pond.


Caravaggio

knelt in admiration of self,
arms outstretched as he tried to embrace
his own reflection in the mirror-still pond,
calm and smooth as glass.

Caravaggio, how did you
know to capture him, none more beautiful than he,
as the arrow of enchantment
mesmerized him, before
the sky dripped into his eyes? Before

his shadow congealed into thunder,
before the sun melted into lightning
and a fanged fish, hungry for his face
lurked in the bullrushes.

Words became distraught howls,
his adored head became a skull,
his hand, a claw grasping images
absorbed in a cloud dark sky
in the unenchanted muddied pond.