Alone, the student
scrubs the shadows, blends
and subdivides.
The look of mercury
reflected in the eye. No,
no a beauty that’s criminal.
A gold studded pasture, bodyscape
with wings.
The accuracy of wine bottles,
said the professor,
is the last thing I care about.
Other’s pallets bloom in their stalls.
His field
turns cistern then is scraped away.
Put thumbtacks in circulation, plaster
of paris, iodine in the linseed. Push
to another terrain.
Eyelash glued to bottom lip.
Juice stains on blazer. Wreckage,
inner wreckage, pylons and silos
of wreckage.
His shirt heavy
from the deposited paint.
Much better
when he smoked.
can I leave now, can I
go home.
His nose against the canvas—dirt soup.
From six feet, cacophony.
Hunger
with the bottom rotted out.
No entry. No mileage gained.
Daylight arrives
and it’s sickening.
Fall already. He sees a swath of red
in the line of trees—
someone overdressed,
a raised hand.