Nympheas

Standing beside you, looking at the Water Lillies

at the Art Institute. Monet obsessed with his

pond at Giverny. The shuffle of light. Pads

emerald on the shore. Rough brush strokes. 

The hues of midday sun and endless sunset,

precise in Monet’s vigilance, reflect the love 

Monet had for Alice Hoschedé, his second wife. 

The widow of his patron, who took him in 

and raised his boys after his first wife died.

Were his ordered rays and reflected desire  

kept secret or did he confess to her 

over absinthe at dinner one summer night 

in Normandy? I hope he took it to the grave.

The best things are those kept close to the 

heart. Like this moment in Chicago. The 

secret life of a wanted man. Where no one 

can find us behind the nympheas.