The Sexaholic Shopaholic Workaholic In Me Tells A Tale Of Monet Poem by Gayathri Seetharam

The Sexaholic Shopaholic Workaholic in me tells a tale of Monet
-Gayathri B. Seetharam
This dates back to times when my son
Was not around
I had finished a gruelling semester
In my M.Eng program in chemical engineering at U of Toronto
It was the winter of 1995
We were holidaying in Chicago;

I loved our romantic viewing of
The Art institute of Chicago
Where Monet's Haystacks painted
In different shades of dawn and dusk
And his famous Waterlilies
Set the tone for an aesthetic perspective of sexual longing
For to long for something in one's grasp
But does not fall into one's lap
Leads to excellence in academia
And longer bath times for me
What would my husband say to such scandalous behaviour?
Would he once again tease me about my wanton self
Or make love to me to prove that sexual desire comes
In a package called The Anatomical Masterpiece
And when it is delving deeply into the recesses
Of my anatomical orbs and gynaecological treasure
Makes its transcendence into a heaven sent feeling of sexual completeness;

We entered the gift shop
And my husband bought
An Art Institute of Chicago T-shirt for me
With Claude Monet's picture on it
The shopaholic in me goes bonkers
When in a gift store
For there are such beautiful items on display
But I exercised restraint
And Monet brought me luck for
I painted in my Garden at Argentuil, U of Toronto
Throughout my graduate school years
And I was reminded of the previous years
When my husband had presented me
With an art book on Monet
A peace offering for having forgotten
About my existence in swinging New Orleans
While attending a conference
He came back happy
And I threw myself into his arms
He asked me which painting I liked best
And I thought he wanted me to like Monet's Woman with a Parasol, Madame Monet with her boy
For it appealed to his sense of chivalry
But on the contrary, he liked the feminine feminist me
With dreams in engineering, writing and art;

Many years later, when our son was 18 years old
And we were 25 years old as a married couple
I presented my husband with a photo essay on our romantic times together
And he gave me beautiful silver jewellery
And a watch with LOVE written on it
All chosen by me on a thoroughly enjoyable jaunt
For that photo essay, I made a painting
Titled Out of My Monet's Watelilies like Womb
Came my Michelangelo's David like son,
Unfortunately, my son came out looking naked and vulnerable
But with an anatomical masterpiece
And I would much like to tell my husband
That my gynaecological treasure is a blue bell
And a garden full of blue bells and pink hydrangeas
Would symbolize my days of reproductive health.