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Fall
in love with an unfinished painting
and
you risk the beloved’s oblivion
at
any moment.
No comfort knowing
ways
to unlayer pigment, reveal
an
earlier version.
You love the sticky
glisten,
its sharp smell.
Polynesia’s still
working
by torchlight after Bill’s candle
has
guttered in his tent.
A swirl of oils
disappears
as you watch.
Crouch against
the
carved carousel, etch into
memory
what each new stroke hides.
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