Autumnal
Please see the poem "Strawberries" for a bio of Martina.
Autumnal
I slurp away, darkness as a black canvas
in a cup of tea I drink every morning.
Grey dots of rain soak into a first draft of today and leave behind papier maché of footprints in leaf laden puddles.
Vivid splashes on sparse trees are frozen dancers of a dance macabre.
I believe in the open fire, pungent smell of burning wood, collapsing into fragments.
Scarlet sparks like droplets aim down on the stone,
when I shed my thoughts into a glass of Autumn wine.
When residue dissipates and metal spikes of an evening chill bite into my bones,
I fiercely close my eyes to preserve, in this ever-changing field, a sense of body print in space.
Martina Gritzova (2017)
There follows artwork which accompanied the original work on the poem:
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