i thought of her young,
as a canvas
sitting
on a towel.
a brush with a fine head
a brush with thick hair
and
acrylic paints
(the simple colors
red,
yellow,
black,
etc)
form a circle around the canvas.
but the paint stays capped,
the brushes stay in their plastic,
no lines on the canvas
it can be anything now.
the artists waits
and watches
years pass.
first comes the
red.
the lines begin,
colors mix. Sometimes
they mesh,
mostly
they mess.
the lines
don’t follow patterns
the foundation is covered,
the canvas stops drinking
the acrylics.
colors can’t stay clean
Anymore.
they sit deep
waiting
for new inspiration
oil.
it takes three
or four
layers
and then it’s permanent.
it spreads easily
and it’s expensive,
only a few
hands hold that brush.
but those
are the colors
that never fade
to
the periphery,
and they
shine
under museum
and gallery lights
until
the switch
flicks
south
i see
her
now, with a golden
frame and the strokes
of camel hair
from
corner
to corner.
and she smiles
as she is handed to me
with a ribbon
but no brush,
an ornament
without imperfection,
the priceless
painting
to hang
and to hold.
i’m worthy
to receive, but i can’t help
wondering why–
why was
there no brush for
my hand?
no space
left
for my
eye?
i saw
the other’s
vision
but they were all
wrong,
was i born
with
shaking hands?
my vision
so disturbed?
if i had the
heart
only
i could know
the concept
of
colors
And
lines,
only
i could see
the priceless
piece
hanging like an ornament
in a hallway
where all candles and
light
shine.
i think of her now as a canvas,
dealt and sold
to a patron
who
understands
layers and limits,
and appreciates
the paint
as it
ages with dust
and time.
my hallway
is
empty
with light,
waiting to illuminate a
gold framed canvas
that only needed
one make
of a dress,
one color of
paint,
no patterns
or lines.
I saw in it’s
infancy
an overall
concept of beauty
that no color
could define.
if it was
my
masterpiece
i might have painted
sunny
like June
or blue
like july
but more likely
i would’ve
left it
like the original
architect,
and
the canvas
would have stayed–
clean
and
white