In a Brightly Lit Room
There are twelve tiles across the floor,
four colors hanging on the wall –
and a small photo in the corner
of a young girl with willowed eyes
that watch as I draw little lines
and splatters across the canvas,
searching for red, four kinds of blue
and a smile to the dancing moon.
The willows wallow in the frame,
curled brown slopes, sanded down
to perfection, lined with golden jewels,
thirty-two, eight on each milky side.
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