I knew it was over when he painted me in green
like a corpse.
I asked him why and he shrugged,
And with the movement of his great shoulders
He rendered me a carcass a second time.
I had bled through my gloves before, naïve
He laughed that I could only capture, and not create:
King of the Cubists, full of hubris and,
having a wife,
took me as a lover, pupil, friend.
He became my living end.
I bled through my glove as I waltzed a knife
between my imperfect fingers.
He burned my blue eyes to red.
He painted me in green like I was dead.
Do you like it?
How could I tell him it was my death foretold?
A mirror; a scrying, crying glass to the
I will be when he leaves.
That will be the day of my third murder:
the day my spirit dies.
I said I liked it very much. He smiled.
In a moment I was burned with all the kisses he ever gave;
They scorched me like the white sun over Málaga,
filling my mouth and nose with
honeysuckle and night-flowering jasmine.
my other face still stared.
Red eyed. Lop-sided. Monstrous.
It made all the flowers wither in me.
I hated it. And hated him. And loved him with all my heart.
But I knew it was over,
when he painted me in green.
Art by Jade Fagersten
Absolutely superb. Love it and would love to see more of these (Dora Maar and Olympia) if there are any. Are they part of a series?