Musing

Klimt’s model ladies survey my décor

with superior expressions, no doubt

they disapprove of modern colour

schemes overdosed with pastel bland

in poor imitation of Bauhaus efficiency.

A generation below, Oscar leans in some

New York bar trying to look forties cool.

His name might not be Oscar, I got him

for eight notes in a second-hand shop.

Maybe he’s the lost child of the redhead.