Danabelle Gutierrez

Edition XXXVII

My Love as Art - by Danabelle Gutierrez (Photo by Emiliano Vittoriosi)Photo credit: Emiliano Vittoriosi

My Love as Art

By Danabelle Gutierrez

I know that I’ve had a history of painting you

like you’re the leader of the underworld. Black-horned,

befanged, clawed or tentacled, wielding a pitchfork.

All American Gothic, me looking at you sideways,

but let me just this once be fair to you, I loved

you once, held your hand all red shawl and green dress,

a dove flying over my head with a message.

I’ve kissed you Klimt, all gilded. Sometimes

kissed you

Magritte through white cotton fabric, cried with dots,

on the phone when you told me you had to go

to the hospital, and then again when you said you

would love me forever. I even prayed for you,

I did.

Begged the Almighty, very Rembrandt in chiarascuro light.

I can only say this in retrospect, as I look over

my shoulder, with a pearl earring, the love once

felt draining slowly from my gaze, I’m so sorry

I couldn’t sculpt a better lover for you out of all

this skin,

they’ve taken my arms, there’s not much I can do now,

except to give you this museum of words, all expressed, and

impressed, somewhat derivative, and up for interpretation.


Return to the top