5 New Poems by Mindy Gill

By | 1 September 2023

In Each Dimmed Room
after Ray Crooke’s Woman with Blossoms (1962-1963)

The bright world waits by the open door.
Linen wrinkled on the table
the waxy flowers arranged like a still life.
Life, now static as colour is. Turned in
from the sea the man considers
what it means to live
as shadow might – wedded to light.
Limes ripen in a bowl. The blossoms gathered.
No movement but the sea in the distance
that impasto that presides over everything
over the women, who are featureless
as the room goes on darkening where the man
will remain eternally, thinking nothing.
Not of shadow or light, nor the filament-lit
blue, imperfect as Gauguin’s, whose women
turn their backs on us. Each story we tell
of paradise ends with its undoing.

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