By Madison
Date: 10 March 2000
pigment
you posed for words
that I would draw.
they clung to you.
you called me beautiful.
I chose the finest oval tip
from a bell-shaped jar of many
to paint you to my cloth.
I did not watch the daystar
take seasons
and with them you.
the world went old around me.
I put away my smock
and still the unframed canvas
turns its face against the air
damp and thick with you
it cannot dry.
M Madison
10 mar 2000
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