Nobody's house—the depth of pastures. Swirls

After Cézanne's 'Mont Sainte-Victoire'
 
Nobody's house—the depth of pastures. Swirls
of water vapor, planes and shapes of trees
reflected by the bayou. She has canals
that move her blood, she has the lakes and bays

of deltas in her. I see the geometries
of her breasts and thighs, I can barely describe
her with different colors. There is a depth
to how the mountain is painted, a depth to her

that I can sense beyond words. She's a victory
of light over the land, she uses forms
to rule man's eyes. The depth of a blue triangle

has punctuated the spectacle, I can hear her
moving in this air. Her warm-pink flesh
has been divided into different rooms.