The Boy in Red
Debating the merits of high- and low- Tuscan machinery – like lutes and flutes, Embellished tales that refine the senses But avert the actual – we sought only To accompany the icons, dissolute And charming, on their way to the eye. By God, the enchanting nobility was not The receptacles nor what they contained, But the idea of storage – so urbane And homely – that eluded the absent- Minded brains all around us: the lousy Shepherd donating his flock to the absolute Wherewithal; becoming the painting and A nuisance. At no point in our belonging – Me and this peasant boy – did we perjure The nymphs of satisfaction, graciously Beguiling yet always worth knowing. The sun’s Cache of verisimilitude put on its cloak for you To cast me a glance so furtive, well thought-out And dismissive, it could hardly be considered Unreasonable to never make up your mind. Jake Sheff Jake Sheff is a major and pediatrician in the US Air Force, married with a daughter and three pets. Currently home is the Mojave Desert. Poems of Jake’s are in Marathon Literary Review, Jet Fuel Review, The Cossack Review and elsewhere. His chapbook is “Looting Versailles” (Alabaster Leaves Publishing). He considers life an impossible sit-up, but plausible.
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June 2025
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