The Three Ages of Humans, by Dosso Dossi
The Fall
A snake removes its skin
and sheds what little innocence
we might have given credence to.
It’s all a matter of your
perspective. For example:
the moment before and after
the Fall. Complexities
multiply. A multitude
of rehashed interpretations.
Venerated veritas:
the truth shall set me free.
At last. At least
I wish I could suspend —
put an end to —
disbelief. Tempered
apprehension: so hard to come by.
Disregarding the stiffness
in my back, I straighten.
Thus uncoiled, I continue to stare
at the painting, hanging in front of
where I stand. By now,
I could tell you everything
there is to know about this
work of art with my eyes shut.
Retinal sketches.
Two figures: man and woman.
A tree. Red apple. Not to forget
that aforementioned ophidian: its eyes glare
back at me. And I, numb,
remain still, reciprocating
in turn. There is no recourse other
than keeping my end of the bargain.
April 4, 2024
About the writer
Philip Miller is a previously unpublished poet. He is Senior Lecturer and Chairperson of the Department of Music Theory & Composition at the Ingesund School of Music, Karlstad University in Sweden.
Further considerations
Baby Boom and Bust
‘Howdy hoody! Lemme guess: you was just passing through the middle of middle England, and you recognized the flame-decorated Ferrari outside my Hobbit Hole, and you buzzed ‘cos you fancied a parley?'
Telling the Truth
I once told a therapist my father was molesting me. It wasn’t true. I was twenty-five and exhausted, lying awake most nights trying to understand why I felt so sad when nothing in my life was obviously wrong.
Thoughts of Endangered Paper
Here I am, looking at this copy of a // two hundred-dollar book.
this is about capitalism, and The Poet Sees Her Ex at Pride
duty pulled a mountain along lesser used roads. // time was ill-spent preparing workers for the crossing.