The man
In Beckmann’s
“Anni
(Girl with a fan)”
Doesn’t have a plan
Her expressionist
Expression isn’t
Letting on that she knows
But she knows
Two large saucers
Thin line nose
Hooks bodice bones
Laid by butlers
On her pristine
White tablecloth
Of a face
Silver tongue and
Scarlet nails
Scratch cocktail tales
The ruby kisser whispers:
‘I know why I’m here
Do you really know why you’re here?’
It’s naïve to think
That Anni
The girl
With a fan
Could only have
One fan
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