I am a rehabilitation occupational therapist privileged to work with the elderly in the sleepy to smouldering city of Baton Rouge. Off days I spend many hours alone in a room I built in order to reach a different form of deep connection through writing. I have a website at www.edrpoet.com
Henri Matisse - "Apples"
Why He Did Not Paint What He Saw
That day in the museum
I was unable to tell my niece
how Matisse reduced the world
to interplays of illumination and pitch.
Portrayed how darkness under
a table has a weight of its own,
which has loomed forever,
which moves toward us
and will someday claim us,
as any infant knows in its vast terror
as it screams in the shadowed crib
for the brilliance a mother cracks open
when she comes to the nursery door.
That sudden flood of light
is equal to the one Matisse swirled
around the bowl of fruit that he made
hover amidst incandescence and coal.
Matisse's fruit is as rounded
as the breast that a nursing mother offers
the howling mouth of her infant
at the moment when fulfillment comes.
© 2017 Ed Ruzicka
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