
Jane Alberdeston Coralin
WebsiteYears:
Poem
THE PAINTER
(for lloyd walcott)
he came into
our home
with furrowed brows
seeking in his sister
the parent
he never had
this man my uncle
looking nothing
like my mother
no ready smile
no burnt cork skin
just a tentative artist
who knew the smell
of the kitchen
the feel of a knife
that unfolds a cabbage
as well as acrylic brushes
on canvas
it wasn’t his desire
to prepare food
for the rich to savour
or to take on a wife
or sire sons & a daughter
who might need his support
all he really wanted
was to paint the landscape
so others might notice it
sketch tubby women
languishing under domesticity
carve gods from wood
and be an artist