Portrait of a Man

Image of a painting

“Portrait of a Man,” ca. 1470. Hans Memling (ca. 1430-1494). The Frick Collection.

By JEFFREY HARRISON

Hans Memling, ca. 1470 (Frick Collection)

I know this man,
or feel I do,
or think I could—
as though his face
effaced the centuries
between us,

his brown eyes
guileless,
frankly wise,
his gaze, though
slightly to the side,
somehow direct.

Though proud enough,
and prosperous,
to have his portrait
painted by a master,
his dress is plain,
a dark tunic,

the painter
having left out
any markers
of trade, achievement,
or rank that might
define him,

leaving him free
to be simply
a man, or
simply to be
(even his name
has fallen away),
the only note
of ornament
the green epaulets
of distant landscape
that seem to rest
on his shoulders.

[Purchase Issue 18 here.]

 

Jeffrey Harrison’s sixth book of poetry, Between Lakes, will be published by Four Way Books in fall 2020. His previous book, Into Daylight, won the Dorset Prize, and Incomplete Knowledge was runner-up for the Poets’ Prize. His poems have appeared widely in magazines and journals, as well as in Best American Poetry, the Pushcart Prize anthology, and other anthologies.

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Portrait of a Man

Related Posts

Sasha Burshteyn: Poems

SASHA BURSHTEYN
The slagheap dominates / the landscape. A new kurgan / for a new age. High grave, waste mound. / To think of life / among the mountains— / that clean, clear air— / and realize that you’ve been breathing / shit. Plant trees / around the spoil tip! Appreciate / the unnatural charm! Green fold, / gray pile.

New York City skyline

Lawrence Joseph: New Poems

JOSEPH LAWRENCE
what we do is // precise and limited, according to / the Minister of Defense, // the President / is drawing a line, // the President is drawing / a red line, we don’t want to see 

rebecca on a dock at sunset

Late Orison

REBECCA FOUST
You & I will grow old, Love, / we have grown old. But this last chance // in our late decades could be like the Pleiades, winter stars seen by / Sappho, Hesiod & Galileo & now by you & me.