Neila Mezynski
High Note
Yellow sunflowers. Staring. See if she can reach high enough. It can’t be rushed this reaching thing, needs water. Keep it freshly. Fred said make the pieces fit at all costs even if no singing, winging. Run through the clover and feel the bee sting, don’t stop. Pierce it. Put a hole in it. Don’t be chicken, do it. Why don’t you do it? You don’t get another chance he said. Turn around fastly, dart dash. The canvas. Do it sincerely, with juice. She wanted nothing, maybe a hot fudge sundae and a good legal/cop show. Put the red blue green dogbones, horses, X’s, chairs, people on canvas. How about the kitchen sink? Paintings by gorillas, 5 year olds, elephant’s long trunk, cat on piano keys. Talent, a terrible thing. Don’t drink and paint. He died and she, he, they, did the dance of joy. She started to write.