Painting
by Mac Tiarawut ’22
by Kellye Nguyen ’22 My mother is a paint brush Always, she bends, unwaveringly Her body making rainbows, never Ceasing She sits, another stroke Palms pressed, another stroke Eyes closed, another stroke Lips moving—or are they? Another stroke Mud, blood, money, tears Another tube of paint is opened—new yet rusted Dip drip—then Peace Within her heart and soul, the bristles quietly ignite Smoke floats like clouds all around, even when Pff! The spark goes out and Nothing, and everything, remains.
OUTCROPPINGS • Volume 43 •
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