Tonight's Poet Corner: Artist's Guild
Artist's Guild
by Belinda Roddie
O'Keefe drank champagne. I sat with Van Gogh
and counted both scars and stars while
the phonograph grumbled nearby.
There were five of us together, the last being
Pollock, who kept hitting the white walls
with a stick painted blue. We ate off plates
the hue and shape of water lilies and wished
we could decorate the sky, like our own
Sistine Chapel - but without the cherubs.
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