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