A Painting on the Wall

The little boy is sitting
in a tipped over chair,
holding his admiral hat
in his raised right hand.

The chair is black velvet
with golden fringe,
he looks quite poised
in this tumbled over position.

What do I know of
cowardice or courage,
So easily confused
in funhouse mirrors
of desire and passion?

Or the difference between
deliberation and indifference?
Ah, there is no clairvoyance
in me, no special insight.

He sits upon the tumbled
black velvet chair,
wearing yellow and blue,
stiff ruff at wrist and neck.

Relaxed even in disarray,
I suppose he could easily arise.