Dried Paint

Dmitri Akers

Mummified like the Pharaohs of yester,
Old black, red, yellow, brown, bright green, old blue…
Left in some painter’s palette to fester,
What could these hues mean for a select few?
This leaves a trace of what was, though no clue;
Lasted more than Ozymandias, who
Left only some decayed, timeworn statue:
O Painter (third of his name), we assume
Your signature is here, mere gravestone we exhume.

Dmitri Akers

Dmitri Akers is a writer and poet living on Kaurna land (Adelaide, South Australia). His creative work has appeared in 'La Piccioletta Barca' (16, 30, 33, 34) and 'So It Goes' (IX, X); his non-fiction has appeared in 'The Modernist Review' (35) and on the Undergraduate Library (as he was Highly Commended by the Global Undergraduate Awards in 2020).

Issue 34
Back to Issue
Also in this thread
This thread has no other posts