I met you in Wien

We were making love with my wife, but

Of metal, clattering on and off the canvas, sculpturing

Marionettes, mourning, and grinding pleasure over time

Shedding rust off of the Schiele-shadowed corridors of Belvedere

When the gold of Klimt only offered perpetuity in

Art, in passing

the climax a secession from life, the transient colors fading

Ofer

Something

Lellouche

A layer of my being charcoaled out or

Of bronze or wood

Offer yourself “por” favor, “por” trait, a sacrifice of the poor

Albertina always sounded luminous, expensive

A touch grandiose, glittering grounds

Lovemaking is an art in the bud of the tree mind

Nothing gets old; nothing gets a face

Features are only contrast, the juxtaposition of life

Already lived, already holly costed

I cherish the death in the Kiss

Art: “Self Portrait” by Ofer Lellouche