The Lovers, by Tamara Madison

The Lovers, by Rene Magritte (Belgium). 1928.

The Lovers

The lovers are kissing
each beneath a separate 
head-covering cloth.  
The man’s nose
is a peninsula jutting
into the shadowy sea
of the woman’s cheek – 
but they have no eyes,
no hair, just a presumption
of mouths, the shrouded point
where their faces meet.

I have heard the commentary:
the artist’s mother’s 
dead body pulled
from the water
covered with the cloth
of her wet dress – some think 
it’s about death:  the death 
of love, maybe,
or the isolation of lovers,
hidden identities,
mystery – so what?

You show what you want
them to see, they see 
what they want to see; 
in the end, what does it matter?
Love is a blessing no matter 
how it arrives:  real or imagined,
behind a gray muslin shroud
or unclothed in the doorway,
brilliant with the joy
of being loved
and loving back.

Tamara Madison

This poem was first published in the author's poetry collection, Moraine, from Pearl Editions.

Tamara Madison is the author of the chapbook “The Belly Remembers”, and two full-length volumes of poetry, “Wild Domestic” and “Moraine”, all published by Pearl Editions. Her work has appeared in Chiron Review, Your Daily Poem, A Year of Being Here, Nerve Cowboy, the Writer’s Almanac and other publications. She is thrilled to have just retired from teaching English and French in a Los Angeles high school.

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