rust

paint colour chart

They live together
The Super, called Helen, likes them and always seems to visit when they are occupied.
While he washed paint not yet dry from the cupboard doors
She abandoned a bad job half done
The wet rag dipped into the bucket increasingly pink
On exit
The paint dried in patches on the canvas
And what she saw was
She could not move off the tips of the brush end
And that is the point
Where the paint doesn’t move
But smudges instead
They love together
The Super, called Helen, likes them and always seems to visit when they are occupied.

Like smeared lipstick at the edges of the
Superintendent’s mouth on a Friday night
Before picking up the fishandchips at
Mam’s Fish and Chip Bar, a little down the road
The Super’s head look s as if she has painted it
Patches of old red sit upon the steel wire with silver streaks and skin
Mottled from the sun
Freckled in testament of her ancestors from the Isle of Skye
But she’s in Australia
Holding onto the dream of
Where they once belonged
But once, someone didn’t feel as if they did
They left
Antipodean bound
They make together
The Super, called Helen, likes them and always seems to visit when they are occupied.

Any sense of belonging is no more than a second layer of paint
It washes off and if you leave
It to dry
You can go over it with some other colour
Gloss
Matt or
Glaze over the place
Which once signified something other
They eat together
The Super, called Helen, likes them and always seems to visit when they are occupied.

There’s no chance of the paint stained Super
Coming up again tonight after
The long chat earlier on in that day-twice
Once in the car park
Once again when she pulled up three flights
And they were eating lunch
But she didn’t seem to notice
food on the plates but talked instead of
RUNRIG
A group she had seen in the paper she subscribed from that place
In Scotland and paint
The colours of the kitchen held the Super
It’s only paint
Just a covering
No one is any more attached to
The paint on the wall as they are
To the conversation
Which at the time even the Super becomes
Part of the internal landscape of the kitchen
With the different coloured paint
They stick together
The Super, called Helen likes them and always seems to visit when they are occupied.

feet

Poem: Rust by J. L. Nash ©

Share

Leave a Reply

(required)

There aren't any comments at the moment, be the first to start the discussion!