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