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Human Canvas
October 10, 2014
My hands are a canvas.
They're painted with
mediums.
THey are caked in the
gray dust of clay.
That dances as clouds
when I clap.
They are smeared by
shades of color fixed
into groves of my skin
by oil pastels.
They are splashed with
stains of paint. Still
wet and dripping off
my fingertips.
They are tainted by
ink. The blackened
liquid staining my
fingers.
They are shaded
in gray. Laid
thick by neverending
stains of lead.
My hands hold a
canvas. That tell
of my work.
© Casey C., Rockport, ME
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