after Caravaggio
Everyone loves figs.
Imagine the Virgin
imagining figs
Paint the girl
in your studio
modeling Mary
as she stares
past your shoulder
at a plate
of sliced figs.
Imagine the cherubs
imagining figs.
Imagine green, Capucine
yellow, imagine
mercurial vermilion
in the black background
of a body,
see my oiled wing
as the armor of Romans
who grip,
in the post-kiss
of Judas,
the luminous
curser of figs.