That I was a great painter.
The faces of my family
Too much heat on their flesh
Became volcanos on canvas.
Fire dripped from my brush.
The heat of the love from
The core of the earth
Burned me beautifully warm
And over the volcano I painted a sea.
The blues, the deep, deep blues
Were the colors I know would be
My brain shot by a gun.
The ocean cooled my beautiful burns
And forced me under its stormless waves.
I was hushed into the loudest silence
I took deep breaths.
And over the ocean I painted a garden.
Rich with life and green,
A green so deep it cured me.
Trees so full they must cry flowers.
And there were freshly planted tulip bulbs
That became children for the taking.
So I painted a brown in the garden.
A hole so deep it became my grave
To dry out my salt water filled lungs
I painted a grave surrounded by green.
And the rats danced through the ivy, singing,
‘Your body, one day, will be food.’