The veins in the whites of my eyes
look drawn on with crimson hued ink,
and I wish for the water to
turn my blood to molten metal
so I may pour myself golden
onto the streets like warm sunlight,
paint the roads a mustard yellow
on my hands and knees in the heat.
I want to brush my liquid self
on canvas, but I don’t yet
know my accurate melting point–
I find myself in a lab of
palette knives and fine paintbrushes,
trying to squeeze my desires
out of a tube like fresh paint so I may
paint myself a loophole to this
incurable mortality.
Kim Kaul is a poet and multidisciplinary artist living in Mumbai, India.
Featured image: Peter Olexa/Unsplash