still in a whisper voice
I asked
are these good
the pictures?
good art?
I mean
I don’t know
she stopped and looked
at me as if duh
then
cupped
her hand on her mouth
and heaved a pretend puke
into her palm
I knew that move
and hated it
felt stupid and went cold
with sweat completely
through my shirt
but snorted an almost laugh
at it anyway
then she unzipped this
big black flat case
and took out a board
with a sheet of tissue paper
on a drawing underneath
she peeled the tape
off the tissue corners
she did it slow
This, if you want to know,
Is good. This is mine.
and on the paper was
a bowl of fruit
lit by a candle on
the old table
in the corner
of the art room
from gray chalk on creamy paper
she had made
two ripe apples
(one with a thumbprint
of a bruise)
three pears two bananas
a bunch of grapes
that had been rinsed
and heaped in the bowl
which looked (the bowl)
light blue but
like every other thing
was only gray
and a peach
a single peach sat on the table
next to the bowl
looking yellow
red
and in between
the colors fiery
like it was perfectly
ripe
I knew the lines that made
every one of those fruits
were flat
as flat as the sheet
the lines were on
but all the fruit was
wet under the candlelight
as if it had been rinsed
just now
and just now
being served
to us
and real
enough to eat
but most of all what
sat there on the table
that peach drawn
with gray chalk
and only chalk
punched me in the chest