Weathered canvas

spent my life spinning
in golden fields
painted titanate yellow
speckled oxide green
wet on wet beads
over dry cotton paper


pigments pool together
staining my hands
staining my legs
I cannot wash off
the ways I twisted myself crooked


spent my life wading
through fields of purple needlegrass
blooming poppies, white clouds of wild yarrow
converse shoes hanging over electrical wires
wind blowing candy wrappers
wandering fields of purple needlegrass


cars rush down the freeway
ants march past me
grass grows taller than my body
I rust in rooted restfulness
leaving pages empty


spent my life being pushed
backwards into puddles of pigment
filled with rainbow oil
alone in a stained world

a cracked, weathered canvas
glued together with gesso
left with scares I did not want
yet, all of them are mine