Cross- hatching

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Cross- hatching

Steph Ritz

I took Art when I was 12 -

Committed, as if wed to that lead

That marked the canvas for life.

Quickly realising: I’m alright!

It was only later, colours began

Arriving at my window, calling

In the deafening night;

Now looking at you, I

Am reminded of the way they taught

Us Cross-Hatching.

As if your Armistice Arms were

Lines that I would write on.

I hope these self-same metal colours find you

Sleeping-

With pallet knife, despite,

In hand, I work about your canvas

Sweeping the greys and blacks I see into

Magenta and pansies.

Flowers bloom sepulchral.

And I am reminded again,

Of poppies growing as if one with barbed wire

And red being torn apart by rain.

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