The Marjorie E. Peale Prize

Susan Finch Stevens

 

Marsh Impasto

Leaving the island,
the marsh leaves me
at a loss for words
and yearning for pigment-
rich oils on the blade
of a palette knife.
I long to cut raw
sienna deep
into furrowed umber,
to stipple ochre
across a thickening
smear of russet brown
that screams bloody red
lamentations
over the death of green.

 

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