The Painting

The painting When she left it had been snowing but she Left no footprints, that is many footprints but not one I could recognise as belonging to hers. Years passed like a stable of wood waiting for winter And I finally saw her in a painting by Paula Rego So many suffering women abused by men over time They had survived while I sat in the bosom of a strong Woman suckling her breasts like a little pig And in her eyes, I could read her deep sadness and hands red by Endless cleaning floors and serving men when young. She cared not for a son he would have abused her too Yes, it was her she had left no footprint in the snow She had painted the misery of men her hatred of humanity She had reduced me to a little man in fear of ghosts And I could no longer reach her with sweet words or tempt With my moments of lust.