Poem
Palimpsest
No one knows what is under
the monochrome abstracts Frank makes
for exhibit at the university where
he teaches aspiring artists:
the landscapes he lived, back
during his years as a student,
mornings captured in lustrous colour,
portraits of lovers, sanguine
with post-coital blush,
now mere grey geometry
as he paints over canvases snatched
from the attic of his parents’ house
while they were skiing in Vermont,
while he was supposed to be watering
plants in the empty house.
