Pieter Dierckx, Belgian
Now, Wait. What Was It That Nora Was Making With This Again? Oh, Right. Curtains., Date Unknown
Oil on canvas
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/// She’s in Flanders and makes Bobbin Lace,
with a pillow to hold it in place.
There are quotas to meet.
Her boss stands in the street
with the window glass cooling his face.
/// Constant scrutiny isn’t deserved.
It’s upsetting to be thus observed.
He peers over her shoulder
and would be even bolder,
but her daughter’s tears leave him unnerved.
/// The direction in which the man gazed
was not toward the kid. I’d be amazed
if he saw her at all,
‘cause he’s clearly in thrall
to the Mom. See his eyes? Double glazed.
/// To his pockets his hands always race,
and his peeping would lead to disgrace
if his daydreams were known:
He’d wait til she’s alone
and insist that she wear only lace.