'Those Paintings' Poem by Marty McKenna

those paintings, under the spell
of sparkling psychosis
led me through the passage of time
to this day, where, when i close my eyes,
i still see their form, their brushstrokes,
composition, colour, light;
their figures, framed in fallen fuss,
displayed in the day room of a quiet asylum.

after all this time
they shine with an irradiated energy
in my brain, slewing forth
city streets, under fresh breath
of a storm just passed by. time
dripping in lumps
from an artists' palette;
primary red, primary blue,
my sanity follows the figures
backwards and my daughter, unawares now,
will thank them one day.

first published by 'dreich'
from the chapbook 'silent stigma loud leaf'