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A Yellow Brush This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This work has won the Teen Ink contest in its category.

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Dim smiles of twilight slant through the studio window
at sharp angles,
Dusk fading to copper green.
In a room that’s too small
Papers pile high as cathedrals
Scratched with graphite lines.
Old, empty paint tubes litter the floor like autumn leaves
A malodor hangs
of oils
and last night’s dinner.
A giraffe-necked desk lamp gazes at a wooden easel
Where a half-finished painting is perched -
White spaces cry out silently to be.
The rest of the apartment is dark.
On a pull-out sofa as old as the Parthenon
An artist sleeps uneasily.
The television flickers static on his concentrated brow.
In his fingers is
a frayed yellow brush,
The saffron paint drips onto the floor, waiting to become
a starry evening
the downy wing of a bird
the soft dress of a Parisian lady.
Downstairs
An old lady, disappointed at the failure of her life,
Dials the superintendent’s number
To complain about the smell of paint.


This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.

This work has won the Teen Ink contest in its category. This piece won the March 2006 Teen Ink Poetry Contest.






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Ray--yoThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Feb. 9, 2015 at 8:32 am
Nine years...I hope you're well :)
 
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