Self-Portrait at 38
Hair still Titian,
but Botticelli's grip has loosened—
not now Rubenesque,
and probably never;
Ingres approaches,
but Courbet might capture me.
Could I be surreal?
It seems almost likely—
bells in my ears
and fortresses under;
cones have been set on my eyes.
My spring is gone
and summer's upon me,
rude in its ripening.
I'm espaliered, strung wide and tied,
pinioned, and thus can I fly.
Copyright Credit: Jennifer Tonge, "“Self-Portrait at 38”" from (: , )
Source: Poetry (May 2005)