Kalopsia

I sit in a flurry of white sheets.

Two palms,

       two arms,

to shelter

one huddle of knees.

A perfect sanctuary of wild flowers,

                                          hopes,

                                              Shields,

and lose dreams.

I’ve been painted like this,

(on  a canvas much bigger than myself)

by an amiable old man,

with rusted paint on his yellow cap

and a brush in his mouth.

He told me to sit still

He told me nothing else.

His masterpiece is soon to be presented,

right here,

before me.

Hung on a velvet curtain,

A colossal display of opulence;

Or rather just purple and gold.

So I can sit here for centuries,

seeming as pretty as I've ever been.

Whilst behind the screen,

of goldfinch birds and gentle daisies,

my hands crumble to blue.

Smoke beyond water.

My body screaming into steam.

Bones holding bones,

protected from the view.