LESSON IN ART HISTORY
Garcia stood in the lone window
a castle tower in Catalunia or Castile;
Etruscan lips were the center of the frame.
didn't paint them herself, it was Goya.
later the French were defeated.
million muskets were stacked like
of wheat in dreary cells
served as well
the aging of red vine.
everything continued in a different key.
new generation grew up to laugh at David,
fine classical sentiments
in a lake of blood.
willful and destructive child was born:
world of walls, imaginary lines,
made maps of war
sufficient light at least to
a few dreams: Renoir, Van Gogh.
the future came of age, movies, TV
all that hubbub, all that paint alone could
produce. Sabasa Garcia still sat in her tower,
for another Goya, or Chirico.
the dreams persisted, the boating
on Seine, a touch of sun,
we could glimpse in the
of tragedy: ore stubborn refusal
make the dreams come true.