A Recurring Theme



He draws the stomach,

or whatever remains of it, with ease.



In all his studies,

the charts and dissections

colourful maps of the human body

he learned a thing or two about sketching

without formal art training.



An audience studies his sketch

as if he were Diego Rivera

creating a public mural.



The artist exclaims:

It’s come back.  It’s come back.



Tears do not fall, this time;

my body numb.



This is a private matter - 

the primary colour on the artist’s palette

surrounded by his offspring.



In other circumstances,

I may have thought him 

an extraordinary artist.



I look at my father's face,

nerves twitch around his mouth.



The skilled surgeon

darkens the looming death.



Perhaps in a gallery in Mexico City,

sipping rose-coloured wine

I may have praised his talent.

© Sonia Saikaley