Erica Schreiner, “Painting the Roses

Painting the Roses

Erica Schreiner

Vacancy I’m slowing down in my lungs watercolour roses and eggs where I come from Seagulls shout complaints on the other side of life I stand on the edge of a cliff and hold in my hand a knife and breathe in the wind that surrounds me If anyone knew I was missing, they’d try and save me If anyone

I’m painting roses with watercolour I’m painting eggs next to them too painting the whole goddamn natural world around me I always preferred cerulean blue I think and I dream: Someday there won’t be such a thing as taxes and someday you’ll come talking to me Someday I’ll run again and my hand won’t be broken and someday I’ll dance on top of the sea Someday I’ll break the Invisible Visible the networks that promise productivity as if that were a higher virtue than freedom and you play along, you all play along but no, not me because I turn it off and sit in my room uninterrupted for hours creating the world I want to see because it doesn’t exist and without it I don’t feel free

So, I’m painting roses with a box of watercolors I’m painting the eggs too painting the fruit and everything in the fridge everything I can see everything that reminds me of you I’m painting the skin and the floor I’m painting the walls and the cabinets the bowl that holds the fish I’m painting the ceiling fan with a roller I’m rolling the paint down over the windows I can’t see out, but they can’t see in Can you die from paint seeping into your skin?

I have to be careful not to paint over the camera lens I don’t hear sounds anymore I’ve painted them out (finally!) Wait. I can hear a bird chirping faint I hear music in my mind I hear the heartbeat drum of a clock click-ticking in time I can hear the passing of time! I can hear ancient souls corroding around me trapped in modern slime I hear myself screaming and blocking the doorway when I was just a woman-child in this body of mine Body Body Body Roses Eggs Body Body Everybody Your body My body I can finally feel we are one in the same

alone in this room the world I create the paint takes over and soars from my fingertips I no longer need brushes This is good because I don’t have any water to rinse

Paint flows from my digits into my limbs now filling my veins heading toward my heart pumping a mixture of blood and titanium white I press my palms into the ceiling (I don’t even try this time) Clouds reverse-evaporate and make up space They disperse and radiate, creating the sky in this world I’m inventing Like a ballerina I spin in circles The planets and stars take their place I realize I’m at the top of a ladder and the sky overhead is mine I’m singing! and spinning! and shouting!

and I kick the ladder out from under me I have wings! It’s okay because I have wings! as all Great Artists do! I’m flying now—without strings I’m flying alone, without you

I need to taste the sky, so I lick the sky I just painted and the clouds taste like honey No, more like mint jelly I’m in the middle of a rainbow I think because my skin my skin my skin is translucent and purple and pink My skin is rainbowing together and I can’t tell the difference between death and living forever