My husband tells me I have a twentieth century ass
And that’s a type of poem.
Rubens put touches of red on his angels' rears,
Literally rogue on cheeks
And I feel that’s what this world is missing—
More blushed bottoms
More naked debauchery
More holy stories
We laugh out loud at some of the babies,
Old man newborn is forever the haha trope,
The mortality, ever life, after life, reincarnation, universal oneness
Created for us by some Flemish dude
Appeasing his benefactor.
Before time’s up
And we walk down the mountain back to life.
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