refuge
within temporary refuge,
your trapezoid palette
inside Maison Jaune in Arles.
pale violet walls,
bed, fresh yellow butter,
scarlet coverlet against
citron sheets,
puzzle-piece floor
of celadon clay,
orange toilet table, blue basin,
a mirror awaiting a face.
there is no white
in the picture,
so the frame will be white,
you said,
as your thoughts
edged charcoal borders.
two chairs beg company,
one holding firm against outside bluster,
the other pulled close as your mother’s
to your childhood bedside,
does night whisper dreams
you reenact on canvas by day?
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