Daughter of Crimson

This poem was inspired by the short story "Wings Chips", by Mavis Gallant

I am the painter's daughter.

Who oversees her words for their colors,

As the grasp of my mother tongue slipped through his brush strokes.

Who shapes her world over her fathers view,

To let his art be cherished.

To watch as faces pass his work,

So as he once walked with me.

I am the painter's daughter.

Who oversees her father.

For his work is cherished as gift,

yet the womb of my mother lies poisoned in crimson.

Her promise of life,

Merely a muse to the artist.