occult (lute, woman, maid)

—after Woman with a Pearl Necklace and Mistress and Maid by Johannes Vermeer

1.

Oh, Johannes, your piercing detail

slips from disdained glass. Accuracy’s correction

without fail! I can tell that your crucifixion

will scream at the explosions—

thank you;

this is my hallo.

2.

Here, in a perpetual darkness,

they speak:

weather has fallen into fog,

the maid announces,

reaching across the table.

The mistress breathes out,

my chin is something greater,

in mutual, open agreement.

They are half-common

& pretend-rich—

so most of it is done:

she’s in yellow &

not fascinated by you.

3.

I am somewhere, deranged,

but I’ll answer your narrative:

In pearled parallel, she decides why.

She cannot count, yet she has solved

oil’s liquidity and the stretch of area.

In every scene,

an outside dawn breaks as her heart

pauses. You can’t tell, but she is deciding

why she doesn’t know how to play the lute.

4.

Museums

are mediums

to pass around ownership.

Qualifications vanish once you

study the master it’s simple;

to be a Vermeer means

a woman’s best angle

is her left. To tame chaos

then watch as you set a

woman free.