Parrot Pin

Though Munch screams louder with his fans,
what of this curvature in space,
like wicker work yet interwave,
if metal legs, well balanced work?
The leggy drape, off shoulder fall
leads us exotic Geisha trail,
but closer focus, think awhile,
detective-like, something amiss?

Is beadwork where the flesh should be—
cannot ignore strange withered wrist—
as if right arm were photoshopped,
a current issue in the press—
unless this lady’s fresh abused
by genes, or clients, stroke of brush,
or printer’s mishap with the inks,
less he, unlikely, serves a cause?

It’s listed postcard catalogues
as sample of the art nouveau,
though parrot claims a central place,
before accoutrements in case,
that lady, and the fan embraced.
Alone, three beads, I would assess—
until I’m told she props their fall—
a minor lift, should fan be still.

But this is pose, poseur indeed,
said popular with frontline troops,
as pinup for the war deprived,
though that a decade after post.
Too many tassels, rampant blooms
to gild the lily—but no need;
for why paint image for a card
unless the woman worth the brush?

Entrenched with men in mud and slime
this nouveau, Meiji, Taishō mix
on carte postale, no microscope,
or history of art required
to fulfill purpose in the field.
My distant view on laptop screen
is clearer as a handheld scene,
where beads of sweat run down the neck.

Published by Medusa’s Kitchen, 22nd March 2024

https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2024/03/earth-day.html