By the time the painting comes
I had put on layaway,
The painting I had so much fun saving for
selling for
hawking for
releasing for—
by the time the painting comes,
the painting of the tree looking from the
roots up
that I was so sad when I thought it had
burned in the fire
with all the other paintings
my friend had done
(but it, being elsewhere, had been spared).
When the painting comes
--and it’s coming sooner than I ever thought
it would--
when the painting comes,
I don’t know if I will have space
to hang it anymore.
My house is now so deliciously
empty and free.
