When I See Vermeer's "The Woman Holding a Balance"

I think of the surreal copy another
painter did of this, identical except
the scale is full of sliced off penises,
abandoned as the artist's many wives.
for someone in love with football,
a sick wife couldn't compete but that's
another story. Or is it? Does this Vermeer
woman, her belly swollen, really want to
think of justice or souls? Or does she
already know that diamonds are a girl's
best friend and if not diamonds, at least
maybe amber of pearls or sapphire. If
she looks more like a nun than some
body who made love and now has to
pay for it, in Vermeer's Holland, there
was no choice, no chance to get rid of the
child. No taxi out of there. It's the old "she
made her bed and now" and there's so
little in the room except for the jewels
with any color. Her face, once rose maybe
now seems pale and waxy and there's no
sign of hair as if all that had flowered now
is bound up. I think of the woman in ballet
last night who cut long blond curls, has a
buzz cut. It's dull, a mummy cut she calls it.
The rest of her's already lost it's perfect
shape. "I figure I'd chop the only thing I had
that was pretty off. Soon there wouldn't be
anything to dye or curl." I don't see the woman
with the scale as any allegory. Anyone who
thinks that that swell on her gut isn't a baby
must have a secret, know of a valentine size
tumor, or a bustle misplaced. She's stuck
it's clear in the mirror. She can't leave. There
is little enough light pouring down into the room,
even if there was a place to run, she's too huge,
she'd stumble and The Last Judgement's right
behind her

-- Lyn Lifshin