Left look blooms for the eve
Floral, flushed. Flue, fluent.
Lush lips clay wooed. Cold slab grains
Sunned., graze upwards
Against contours and bluebells
The eyes, shrouded against all sight –
Faith inscribed, chipped, cheat.
Restoration of imaginings in colour
Or just bleak – Red
And brown waves
Thick and smoothed as locks
Washed as if everything natural.
Beginnings round and round.
Love burns inside
Stroke on stroke
That pitted canvas calls
Heat and shine, purple-blue
To green to brow. Gentle as lambs,
Lain, lame. Holder of porcelain,
Like a bridal gown in the dark.
Beneath the veil
Fascinating as corners and edges
Wanted as any dark in bronze
Soft converses hand swept.
Creator, traitor, yielding all
Picture by Jesse Orrico (Unplash)