Painting a February Sky

On this palette, will mixing black and violet
uncover the nameless colour tipping
over the horizon in liquid abstract,
grief entering sky’s consciousness
from emotive chaos, dark-plum wine
spilled and bleeding from the other side
of the canvas? My body lured to its secondary
colours, to trace this page’s primary
words. When I mix this much love with drops
of despair, do I create heartbreak, inertia?
Do I arrive at what I’m becoming? Words,
like colours, have gravity—they exert pull, break
in each other’s wakes. Isn’t all matter subject
to gravity? Yes, but not like this.
The way words pull you into me, like faith
stirred by desire. To gather art to its primary
source—search for what has no name.
Look up: mystery, distance, beauty,
mix alchemically to unveil
this exact shade of moon.

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