Purple

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Once upon a time
When you sat muddled, with stationery strewn all around you
On a windy afternoon, the ferocious curtains behind you willing to sweep all of you away
You had asked me what you must paint.
And I had entered the room troubled, with my memory impinging on me
I hadn’t a clue what you meant.
One of your old records was ablaze in the living room
Jarring the dinner table, the wall frames and the window panes
Only faint sensations jolted us where we were
One to the mercy of music, one to the mercy of wind.

 Something about your house was soul-stirring
Maybe it was just you.
Broken tributary amidst the rustle of purple papers
Flying all around you, and you around them

 What must you paint.

 The body, used to cajoling and embrases
Had grown weary of all the love.
Yet the excrescent veins on the back of your hands
Filled me to the brim with delirium
You were the subject of my concupiscent dreams
Wavering and disappearing like a nymph
Leaving me hankering for you.

 What must you paint.

 Even on that windy day after so many years had passed us by
I had asked myself when must I have you
You had seen me think it
But struggled to believe it was only the music
Maybe that’s why you turned on the record.
But even the vinyl was bleeding my tears, dear
While your gaze sifted through trivialities
I stood perplexed at your mediocrity
But the cedar in your hair was calling me
Again
Again, again

 Why don’t you just paint
the atoms that built you
the fibres that kept you
the rhythms that moved you
and if all of this is too philosophical for you to depict
we will have blurred the boundaries between art and science.

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