Weekly feature by: Jessica Hickey

“Painting is just another way of keeping a diary.” –Pablo Picasso

Monday I painted myself
Eating cereal.
But all that came out
Was a bowl and spoon,
Floating oddly above and below
An empty table.

Tuesday I painted
A beautiful woman
Who rode on horseback
Past my window.
She smiled at me.
In the painting she looks
Like a cube and her horse
Walked right off the page.

Wednesday I painted two men
Smoking cigars, talking
Over the village news.
My brush thought it looked more like
Trees dropping leaves
Onto dry sand.

Thursday painted me.
I didn’t care for it.

Friday I stayed in my room all day,
Reading old volumes
I’ve read many times before.
So I painted a large book,
Its pages flapping
Open in the middle.
That one turned out.

Saturday I painted a sunset,
A startling and lovely day’s-end.
My orange paint was shy
And the page showed only dark blue
With streaks of black.

Sunday I gave up
On painting,
For the night.