Joseph Denis Odevaere, Southern Netherlandish
For the Past Year, Trevor Had Been Going To a Therapist For His Dyslexia. Or At Least That’s What He THOUGHT the Sign on the Door Said, 1805
Oil on canvas
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/// The letters mixed-up in his head.
He saw “Harpist,” but “Therapist” read.
In time Trevor caught wise
and, to no one’s surprise,
went to visit “The Rapist” instead.
/// Céline, who was just thirty-seven,
auditioned to get into heaven.
Though she bought a white gown,
and had harp playing down,
she was damned for her bastard son, Kevin.
/// Céline hoped to ascend up to God
by performing a reverent ballade
that was scored for the harp.
Even Kevin would carp,
“You’re off-key and your fingering’s odd.”
/// She told Kevin, “I hate what you’re saying!
To reach Heaven, you know I’ve been praying!”
But her son’s tongue was sharp.
When she played on her harp,
that young ingrate would harp on her playing.
/// Her musicianship he would impugn, / plus her son can’t stand hearing the tune / Céline plays night and noon. / If she doesn’t stop soon, / he will hurl at her harp his harpoon!