Forte (A Canvas Poem)

 

Forte

 

by Alice Jane-Marie Massa

 

 

Before the poor imitation of Picasso’s Guernica

covered the iris of my canvas,

I (who could hardly see the numbers

of paint-by-number)

brushed strokes in the style of PBS and books.

Eventually, I painted over all canvases,

except three–

one of placid spring,

one of striking autumn,

one of an endearing clown.

 

The thoughtful clown is on a speckled purple background:

his hair is in fragrant colors

of oranges and Red Delicious apples;

his smile is whimsical,

his eyes are optical illusions.

 

The muted hues of the spring canvas are,

according to a sighted sister,

fading–

according to me,

fading like my memory of sight,

those seeing and visionary days.

Yes, all are fading, fading:

so, these three canvases of my life

remain covered with opaque wax paper,

as they have traveled with me

around my homelands of the Midwest,

during a nickel’s worth of decades,

and continue to fade,

unseen,

behind my precious “Aunt Zita” bookshelf.

The canvases of my life

are hidden away,

like my acuity.

 

I have such sweet memories

of these paintings:

I have such sweet memoirs

of sight.

Naturally, I still go to the art museums–

the art museums of life.

 

Instead of painting by number,

I now paint by words.

While oils fade,

treasured words revive my artistic soul

which metamorphosed into a poetic soul.

 

Life is such a collage of change.

How wonderful

that when life takes away

a weak or fragile canvas,

life gives

a forte!

 

 

Hoping you will remember President Lincoln on his birthday and

hoping you will enjoy your Valentine’s Weekend,

Alice and Zoe

 

February 10, 2016, Wednesday

 

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