Gauguin’s Tahitian Escape
White head hung low, a shaggy blue-shadowedmare plods beside the sultry shore.
The humid air saps her energy.She lolls her head from side-to-side.Her nostrils sniff the retreating surf,as the sea tucks up its dirty petticoats,
Languid, pink passion flowers dipbetween garish orange fruits.Limp with heat, fifteen shades of green,blue, and yellow vegetation bow.
The relentless sun hides behinda beige wash of fog,while silvery mists meet a grayer bank of clouds billowing to the slim red horizon’s curve,
where carnage rages…wages from the sins of man.