The Anecdote of the Cherry Tree

Roses can be black or white, but never both
Wrote Immanuel Kant, who never dared
To walk beyond his front door.

I saw that door once, briefly, before Marie took us
Behind a cherry tree where,
With her nibbling my earlobe
And I biting her neck we exchanged
Our relative perspectives on beauty

And decided that it is in the I of the beheld.
We talked for sixteen days one night.
The French are the only ones
Who ever figured out
What a tongue is truly for.

The painters have it backwards,
She had said to me once,
The woman in red is just tired.