M.E. Muir

ON THE EXHIBITION OF ALMA TADEMA AT LEIGHTON HOUSE

Barely the staircase Corinthian pillared
would be brightening my mood on its gleamed ebony handrail
with attendants hovering to protect your pictures
for even the peacock does not lighten my fevered emotion.
Would that the dark framed battleship hesssian
were totally obscured by God’s arm outstretched across the looming clouds
for one must have obscurity, obscurity and intensity
at Lord Leighton’s House

Alma Tadema’s bathing nudes
are lit by Greek sunshine from their home in the Grove End Road.
Looking away I search for coffee shops
for even this philistine longs for a tall blonde Cranach
stripped of Edwardian accoutrements –
as I struggle through room after room in the nightmare passageways of Holland Park
– standing purely in simplicity, simplicity and upright
like the swan.

© M. E. Muir