George Wesley Bellows, American
Matilda Didn’t Mind When Stanley Went on His Long Fishing Trips, Because His Wax Figure Was Actually a Better Conversationalist. And, Yes, the Sex Was Better Too, 1924
Oil on canvas
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Info, or links that point to more info, about this artist can be found here, here (archived if necessary), here, here, here, here, here, here, here (can be read in full for free on Fridays), here, here (archived if necessary), here, here, and here, perhaps in addition to what’s in his Wikipedia page.
/// Mrs. Wase had been taken aback;
Phillip died of a sudden attack.
But they’d paid Mr. Bellows,
(one of those painter fellows),
so she dressed for their portrait, in black.
/// She tried molding Phil’s muscles and skin
to resemble a more lifelike grin,
and positioned her man
upright, on the divan,
held still ‘til rigor mortis set in.
/// All the parrot’s bright feathers were fluffed.
Mrs. Wase hated being rebuffed.
So the bird bravely bluffed,
lest, like Phil, she get snuffed
and then put on display freshly stuffed.
/// The reviews of the painting were mixed.
Phillip seems to be staring, transfixed.
While his wife looks perturbed,
(or profoundly disturbed),
as though both life and death she’s betwixt.
/// The red book in her lap would reveal
how to fashion mixed drinks with appeal
and a bartender’s skill.
She served; he drank his fill.
She had made him a Zombie. (For real!)
/// In her book she has marked with her finger
the main spot where she wishes he’d linger.
His “routine” is a yawn—
quickly comes, then he’s gone,
yet he fancies himself as a “swinger.”
/// But, the truth is, (as with most such things),
he can’t handle the truth, for it stings.
Now that fleshy abode
where his two gonads rode
is the one part that, hanging low, swings.