You had ‘The Birth of Venus’ pinned where you could see,
Beyond the bed. A modest nude to contemplate.
A feat of balance, standing on that shell, at sea.
Poised between the Carnal and the Ultimate,
You talked about the art of painting, pointed out
How Botticelli’s composition-lines relate
To a Matisse, the things New Masters learnt about
The Old. You took a pencil-stub to demonstrate.
What deprivations of the Underworld assailed
Your mind, or bright Venusian dreams tormented you?
You’d seen so much – you thought you knew what death entailed:
“Talk about art? Why not? What else is there to do?”
An atheist, you doubted Heaven, doubted Hell.
More fitting, to be borne away upon the Shell.
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Dominic Rivron
Picture Nick Victor
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