I am climbing to enter the forbidden cave,
to see the paintings, the ochre, the sienna.
I see my mixture of fear and ecstasy
on the rocks before me.
Later, I think of the painters,
how they’d chosen colors and layered pigments,
chewed stems of thistle to make their brushes.
Did they eat wild melon, sip ice water
when they were done —
as I do,
now that I am done with wrangling
the wild beasts of my own art?
Dark Matter 
Leave a comment