Could we regard
Monsieur Pierre Bonnard
as an artist
whose kindness shone brighter
than his best hues?
Is it vital to search for spaces the contours of light, 
in the unnamed wilderness?

Didn’t he draw
this aqua bath with discrete joy?
I may need not to know
whose skin will glow,
but imagine her 

The body moving
in space through time
The mind dancing 
gears of thought.
like sparkling dew
on the high window.
 
I might have seen it myself 
A state Bonnard lived in, 
or aspired to? 
stretched out,
stress free,
in a Bonnard bath,
not briefly
but eternally.