illegitimate genius . . . i your kneeling figure embossed with monastery mirror am draped for your study. chiaroscuro, your play of dark vs. light Dearest Tuscany, Does your proficiency suffice when deciphering your son? Verrocchio had laid his brush he understood such rusted knots read backwards through looking glass before they needed to be studied. St. Jerome speaks, beating his breast to the sympathies of a lion while John the Baptist looks on emasculate. The lap of Madonna is burdened a geometric precision on rocks the only grace, an angel’s gaze. Gesso awash in elegy. © Copyright Sue Eckam - All Rights Reserved Web Graphics & Site Design © by RayneDay Creations