Featured Poet: Cathy Cullis — Indian Yellow


The canvas dries slowly.
Angels organise themselves with feather lots.
There are muted discussions concerning
the Indian yellow sky.

Throughout the waiting smaller beings pretend they can grow.
Psalms are sewn, slender and insightful.
Several voices suggest extending a deadline no one else knew about.
In his wisdom, the chief of all things, is asleep.

Some of the angels feel cramped, ever so slightly vexed.
They have travelled this route a number of times.
They pull the clouds and sing into their vapours.
It is all as the artist intended.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s