The picture restorer’s invoice
Under honeysuckle sprays, a cinder path
runs up to the barn and around its brick footings
to a thick archway of clipped privet, through which
lies the picture restorer’s door. He stands mixing
pigments with linseed oil, cleans brushes with turps
and stares intently at the painting before him.
A woman in rags looks up from the canvas
to feet she has tenderly washed. At night
She licks a bowl in the stairwell’s shadow,
left there for her wellbeing. As usual, her meal’s
gruel. She is offered little but a goodnight kiss
and willingly binds wounds for peach stones.
Too soon the clatter of others’ laden breakfasts
drowns out dawn chorus. She has washed
his white dress, which has fallen from a nail
at the focal centre of this period piece.
A subtle tint of Western flesh turns her anguish
into something warmer but expressionless.
The craftsman clouds over with past’s varnish
and wearily writes out an invoice for his work.
Complete, he follows the cinder path round the barn,
under the pink and fragrant canopy to the yard
and lifts the latch to his terracotta tiled kitchen,
where the smell of Arabica coffee greets him.
His wife’s smile meets his. Her complexion
Is olive-skinned, a brunette, Middle Eastern.
He addresses an envelope, seals it with a lick,
kisses his wife’s forehead and counts his blessings.
The picture restorer’s invoice
Under honeysuckle sprays, a cinder path
runs up to the barn and around its brick footings
to a thick archway of clipped privet, through which
lies the picture restorer’s door. He stands mixing
pigments with linseed oil, cleans brushes with turps
and stares intently at the painting before him.
A woman in rags looks up from the canvas
to feet she has tenderly washed. At night
She licks a bowl in the stairwell’s shadow,
left there for her wellbeing. As usual, her meal’s
gruel. She is offered little but a goodnight kiss
and willingly binds wounds for peach stones.
Too soon the clatter of others’ laden breakfasts
drowns out dawn chorus. She has washed
his white dress, which has fallen from a nail
at the focal centre of this period piece.
A subtle tint of Western flesh turns her anguish
into something warmer but expressionless.
The craftsman clouds over with past’s varnish
and wearily writes out an invoice for his work.
Complete, he follows the cinder path round the barn,
under the pink and fragrant canopy to the yard
and lifts the latch to his terracotta tiled kitchen,
where the smell of Arabica coffee greets him.
His wife’s smile meets his. Her complexion
Is olive-skinned, a brunette, Middle Eastern.
He addresses an envelope, seals it with a lick,
kisses his wife’s forehead and counts his blessings.