Gertrude

I was thinking of her and the colours she mixed,

Her oddness, her loose sanity,

The prism she lived in.

—

Gertrude, an unbecoming question.

—

The griefs have settled since I last saw her, the sorrow is

gone, the terror of being alive with no religion and no one is gone.

—

I'm considering moving back to oil.

Landscape (Postpartum), 2012

Oil and paper on canvas