morning rain
declining to go outside
the dog whines
© Rachel Green June 2025
IX.II
She sets the vial upon the coffee table
amidst the coffee stains and burns from cigarettes
and prises off the lid to see just what she is now able
to utilise on canvas for Angelic words be met.
The liquid in the bottle has no scent she can discern,
despite having viscosity of oil;
a dab upon her finger has no colour, taste or burn
but a table daub will glisten like tinfoil.
Reflecting many colours brings her closer to inspect
the glimmer of a half-remembered dream
where a priest is spouting Gospel and thinks no-one will object
if his post-mass private lessons are obscene.
© Rachel Green June 2025
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