The way he renders light at dawn reveals

After Monet's 'Wheatstacks (End of Summer)'

The way he renders light at dawn reveals
the skill that he possesses. Red and greens
disclose her forms, the complements express
a magic that is manifest. The light

informs the world, distinguishes the things
from one another. I can hold the air
within my lungs and sing with it, I can
move arms and legs through light. I hear the clouds

close over her, turn her white light to pink,
then orange, purple, maroon. Shadows stretch
out like her moans, the blue of bruise extends

across the floor from the window. She is lit
as if she were inert, I cannot fashion
an artifact that does justice to this.