after Paul Gaugin Madrid’s lapis heavens glide like paper airplanes Above the lovely washerwomen at play Compact, vivid material unifies them with the landscape Their grins delinquent yet warmhearted One slopes atop another clutching a ram Leering wickedly with her palm stiff on its scur Disrupting the laundress at slumber with a sheep-skinned trick Her workwear dress bold and scarlet as Lucifer's flesh The washerwomen in yellow observes the she-devil Smirking playfully with her brash companion A demon executing schemes as a hellish accessory Passing her time as a joker’s concubine Dozing off under the shining workday’s sun Blissful in her circadian dream of splendor and riches Ignorant to the waking world around her sleeping figure And to the spindle, she will prick it when her eyes open
