Madonna with Green Figs

 

[after a painting by Nathaniel Nemo R.A.]

A sudden rush of rustle from within, (under?)

 the folds of cobalt plaster
  (or was it alabaster?)
and a holy child reached out a tender hand
 for a greengage-coloured fig
  uncomprehending its stolid & static
   inedibility.
Yet too young to be
 in search of the miraculous,
  he replaced the fruit
   in ripening disdain,
retreating inside (beneath?)
 the fading blue of sculptured dress
  in wonder
   (or was it distress?)
A sigh – the Madonna or the clothes she wore?
A cry – the virgin mother or the child she bore?

After time’s arrow lodged a precarious bull’s eye

 in the dartboard of The Three Kings,

  a diligent archivist

   chipped away at one of the figs

    to see if its inside were red

     to match the sea.

A tiny square of dry parchment

 unfolded, fluttered to the floor.

Written upon it was the Word –

 the Invisible word.

And the word was law

 (or was it lore?)

 

 

 

Julian Isaacs


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