Marilyn stretched canvas, stapled, primed and sanded, primed again, the gesso as white as an absence of thought. She dug paint tubes from a hat box on the table. Her hand played hard fast curve. invective. laughter. glove box flask, passed. trunk pops. dig out jack.
over brushes splayed in jars. Easel unfolded, unsteady, ready for seascape: expanse of dune and surf, phthalocyanine span of cloudless sky. She knifed yellow ochre into spills Mary spreads picnic tarp. gravel. sand. Eddie grabs jacket, pockets flask, keeps walking. hours
of white, burnt umber; spread acrylic into hillocks of tawny sand, into banks and knolls and shoals of sand, long grasses feather-dusting the foreground. overcast. waits hands through hair grass, waits knees on dash. the raucous mocking of seagulls. drizzle.
Crimson stripes stacked on orange, pink: folded chairs, or beach umbrellas. Ghost crabs pale as pentimenti; salt spray, shells. Impasto frothing canvas like frosting on cake. Then cerulean, turquoise, ultramarine–wave spit. bunched in front seat strips blouse, skirt. struggles with lug nuts, bruising palms of her hands.
on wave of blue and green. Sun recalling coins on an upturned hand. Quick flicks of her wrist and two seagulls drifted rain-wet swimsuit. hair gummed to face. waxed paper ham salad. hot chagrin. salt. regret.
“Of all lies, art is the least untrue.” –Gustave Flaubert
EDITOR’S NOTE: This poem was selected from entries submitted to our Creative Challenge Series #2: Word Salad, which required that three sets of given words must be included. Read other Creative Challenge winners. To find out how to participate, go to Creative Challenges.