Woman Now

John G. Young

 

Like a Picasso painting

in his blue period

or was it rose,

before he fractured

portraits like broken glass

mirroring an era

of a hundred isms,

before the picture plane

and the jazz age

became shallow,

 

you look down

to the side

like the old guitarist,

the nude in the blue room,

the woman ironing,

no longer my little girl

coming of age

deep in thought