An Artist's Search

An Artist's Search

Zoe Migicovsky

I think I am the colour of ashes, my hair
burnt like charcoal that would smudge your lips
into being. If only I knew the contours
of your body, I could draw myself a lover.

But this isn't love, it's something that hurts
more, life, so I've erased the inevitable but
a dream does not imply a reality so it's late
at night, and I'm always alone with destiny
whispering; I'm chasing the ink on my page.