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

“intricately carved”;

Stolen grey and cooked up colour

catch the eyes of those that pass,

They saunter on to leave those lives

enclosed behind the glass.




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