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