I scour the canvas

and open tins

and unscrew tops

and play Brahms.

 

Dip and watch the colours argue.

Coalesce.

 

And then the thrill

at a stroke.

Maybe a blemish?

 

Vodka helps recall

the very image

of her mouth,

 

And I persue its loss

and perchance

her likeness emerges.

 

I agree with my sadness

in writing and painting

I also thrill with them both.

 

Words and foto T Carroll