Epilogue



Jolie Laide

There she hangs, his masterpiece and her own,

Immortalised in paint, painted over until,

A finished moment masks all that went before.


This Jolie Laide, new illusion of truth,

breaks the old mirror of imagined beauty and,

Up rise a confluence of feelings


As we stand before it.

Deep Winter - second draft

The water breaks; A bird's wing, Shafts and quills intact along the shards of ice. Too heavy to lift, I tip the basin up and water drain...