A Lecture on Tintoretto

throwing off the old cloak of
melancholy, shaking away the

raindrops dripping from the tip
of an umbrella puddling down to our feet

as the lecture on Tintoretto starts,
the room darkens, and the slides

drop in their carousel, the click-
click-click ticking away the next

fifty minutes or so

later
watching, as starving cattle, seven
in number, totter away, seven glossy-fat
take their place, grazing in the long grass

putting on new clothes,
radiant in your reflection,
sighing, always, at the colors mixed
perfectly, so, the iris a palette
of blue, gold, brown