Ineffable, mute mystery inflames,
Clues lie dormant between layers of paint;
Hypomania fuels her artistry.

A dipped brush,
palette of rainbow colours,

Hesitant,
her arthritic fingers shake
Purging the black stain
losing her mind.

Bad luck behind her,
the future unknown;
She rocks and cries midnight
to two a.m.
Drunk on sherry,
she sleeps until noon.

Led by blind faith,
art is her salvation.
Icicles in her mind,
frozen wasteland,
Larvae hatching one by one,
a wasps nest.

A passing boy crosses his arms and looks;
Fresh paint bleeds outside the edge like cut veins.
"How beautiful," is all he says.

© Sandra Yuen
   MacKay, 2007
(all rights reserved)

Image © unheardarts.com,
2006 - 07