Renoir’s Dance


In Renoir, rhythms of sleek forms interlace.
A woman whirls with a man in a dance
Her quiet smile evincing, like the curves
Of her body, a lingering sensual bliss,
Like the thick strands of her lover’s beard,
Or the swirling creases of their clothing,
And the green leaves of the boughs
Swaying in the sultry air behind.
It is an earthiness enhanced by the blurring of solid contours,
The living shapes released for a time
Into the fluency of thick vapors or viscous liquids.
This freedom, rhythmic movement, baffles the eye
Levies the service of other senses,
Into unctuous surfaces, grainy tones,
So the compulsion from visual prison
Binds the luminous patterns in thicker stagnation.
As visual figures mixed and stirred must stand
For twitches, heavings, vibrations--so these must stand
For torpor, anxious delights, sudden apprehensions;
So the medium of pigments and pastes
Is conscripted to the task of rendering human moods,
Signifying the laughter and expectations
Of men and women gathered for dance and drink,
Discussion and dessert, at once wistful and wanton.


But care and consternation must darken the deep lines,
Furrows and frays must depict tense minds
Battling hostile passions, the heavy umbers and greens of Cezanne,
With ponderous, jutting bodiess, teacups blotched
Like lichen-eaten stones, laborers hunched
In threadbare coats, bleached caps, grimacing
Brows, mustaches curled in a smirk, shy, bewildered
Eyes. Rank peaches in a bowl, dry yellow with rusty flush,
Will teach of the hard patience of the heart.

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