I painted it blue
like the recycling bag and my towels
the label of my detergent
and the pillowcase I always put at the bottom

like the edges of my purse where the stained leather’s peeled
the dried up folders of lost ideas and my abandoned gym shoes
like the ribbon from my first grown-up date that ended in teddy-bear tears

I painted it
with cautious fingers and broken chalk
words too gracious to graze their name on more than morning gristle
that curled inside themselves inside my chest
with a focus on gravel and bare feet


but then I looked up
and I painted it like the banner at the bottom of Word
like the covers my parents gave me when I moved out
and the speck of paint on the ceiling where the white couldn’t smudge it

I painted it
with the drawing of nose to neck
a shuffling ‘into’ curl like the patterns on my favourite cushion
with the glass that holds my brushes
and old birthday cards
like the glimmers in my abalone beads

I painted it Bondi and Alice
Phthalo and Azure
Prussian and Cobalt and Columbia
and blue
because I looked up                     and there were stars



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