Blue light.
Blue women, blue nudes.
A woman reclining is perfect form,
a seated nude more perfect
still. I shape them, blue
on blue, with scissors
and what little strength remains
in my hands.
Blue room.
Pablo's winter landscape
above the mantelpiece,
a window into tomorrow. Blue
windows for the chapel
summon winter sunlight in.
Blue liquid flowers. Vibrant and green.
The sky has never been
so clear,
so utterly
blue. Pablo, my friend,
you'll have to paint
for both of us now.