I've run out of cerulean
- cyan too - 
just when I'm here,
kicking off sandals

Yet,
I gavotte at the sea
and imagine I bleed
with the sand, the sky

A bird shadows my shoulder
from high, then walks beside me
pecking at smooth white stone
awash

In froth we quick-step 
atop spongy beach

I feed her maize 
from my easel,
ochre plantains,
sweetest blackest
banana

For me she sports her colorful back,
plumes and wingspans and I 
have since restocked
with all sorts of blue

cc: Chagall '23