Smeared upon a palette, thick as mud
I lay swirling, spitting, shining red –
Jealous green from a rotten soul
with black, so dark it bled.
Brush hairs clung to goosebump skin,
Buried deep with every stroke –
The canvas shimmered, gleamed a smile
that glossed with yellow yolk.
A hand of clay, the Earth, from ribs
squeezed and shaped in sweating palms,
Sold in dusty windows labelled
Stolen grey and cooked up colour
catch the eyes of those that pass,
They saunter on to leave those lives
enclosed behind the glass.