New York
turned Piet Mondrian's black lines
multi-colored.
What would an extra decade or two
have done to Klein's
ultramarine blue?
Half of some yarn, half would have dyed;
the other half,
by the other half mixed with white.
When it was hot,
Yves would have dejeuned upon the checked rug
woven from the yarn;
when it was not,
he'd have cuddled underneath it a lot.
The rug would have been hung on a wall
and talked about and traded;
and called 'Le Rug' and 'The Rug',
and by those in the know,
'Le Projet' and 'The Throw'.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem