CANVAS
     
    only nine fingers
    the painter broke
    and when asked why
    only nine fingers
     
    the painter replied
    in language untranslatable
    splashing paint
    acrylic bats flying blind
     
    you nosy bastard
    what are you doing here
    in the studio
    of my soul
     
    not stopping
    the tenth finger
    snapped back
    parallel
     
    top of the hand
    tiny crack
    toothpick thunder
    she broke down
     
    in front of him
    shamelessly
    delicate mixture
    crying
     
    whimpering
    a swift kick
    to the ribs
    sleeping-dog soul
     
    and in anger
    he asked her to name it
    and many swear
    they can hear her answer
     
    her scream, the title
    as they look
    at the vanishing point
    and listen
     
    others hear only flies
    as they hover
    over foreshortened
    dog carcasses
     
    once home
    he sawed his typewriter in half
    with tiny hack metal teeth
    then drank himself blind