the painting she gave
was not grey
instead its ochre
was split with oranges
and the eventless
grandeur of sky waves
i put it at eye level
and often did gaze
at this split earth
consumed abstracts
with eyes, rationality
without a presence
fled and remonstrated
with the endless reds
i pictured myself there
as if a man on earth
reddened by the sky
until i lay my head
at the foot of the sun
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