Self-Help Dream of the Yellow Canvas
She’d never worked in oils, but she pictured
the canvas luscious and slick, an oily yolk
of glorious yellow, a radiant swath
of luxurious gold. The surface measured
two meters square, and she covered it
with even, horizontal strokes, using
a wide brush to diffuse the viscosity,
spreading the butter to morning.
She kept looking down at her hands,
the flecks of sunlight under her nails.
The path she took was transformed.
published in Connotation Press, Hoppenthaler's Congeries