DAVID DUMOURIEZ wouldn’t be tempted to blow his own trumpet even if (a) he had a trumpet or (b) he knew how to play one
The Restless Cavalier
After The Laughing Cavalier by Frans Hals
A stretching here. A straightening there.
The body knows the time before the mind.
Enough! He wants to rise and drink a cup.
“Come on, Frans. Propel that brush.
I’ll swear that my moustache ascends
more quickly than your paint’s applied!”
“That doesn’t work with me, as well you know.
Few hands sweep faster than the ones you see.”
“It’s been, how many days now?”
“Not enough! Stop shifting, will you?
Maintain the pose. And for the love
of all that’s holy, close your mouth!”
He smiles an unofficial smile.
Just one for himself, and not for Hals.
“Alright, old friend. Alright.
Just go until we lose the light.
You don’t know what it’s like
to sit wood-backed and weighted
down by yards of silk and braid.”
“You’re right, I don’t. I’m just the humble
artist in a smock, collecting sweat and grime
while days turn into weeks. Silk and lace?
I keep their fancy colours for the canvas!”
“Just as well I know you, Frans.
Some would hear you speak
and take your japes for truth.”
He slides his eyes. “I see the frames.
Each contains five hundred guilders!”
“Not until they’re filled. And even then
five hundred now, then next year four.
A decade – if I’m spared – who knows?
Japes will hold their value more,
and truth will be a better currency.”
“One that none of us will live to spend!”
“Not the one we’re making now.
But in the eyes and in the mouth –
if all goes well. Those who look will
feel that gaze until their final days.
And thankfully for them, the form
precludes depiction of your brain!”
“Its contents fly to you, and that’s enough.”
“I struggle to remember what you say,
much less the ‘thoughts’ that give them shape …”
“You know me, Frans – I’ll drink before
I think, and then I think I’ll drink again.”
Some more deft strokes, and then:
“Until we lose the light, you say?”
“Till then, and not a moment more.”
“You know,” he looks around,
“I think it’s gone. Or close enough.”
“Now that’s a truth I understand. Come on!”
DAVID DUMOURIEZ wouldn’t be tempted to blow his own trumpet even if (a) he had a trumpet or (b) he knew how to play one