This misplaced anger
she wields at the painting
amounts to mistaking still
life for inanimate ink smears
what if she is the it
it is the she or the they
encompassing all gender
options at once
paint thickens edges
and a wetland fringe
around an incidental pond
impasto in the extreme
echoes a bas-relief of waves
if there were any
illuminating the surface
of the bay that calm night
a foghorn heard in the distance
yes that kind of medium bending art
this is fear not
of vibrations in the ground beneath
shaking the frame
off the wall
this is fear of nothing
happening / nothing
waking her
to the moment
an entire island disappears
before dawn