Two Lemons and a Self-coloured Cloth

Chekhov2
Two Lemons and a Self-Coloured Cloth

What a set-up for a pointless still life.
Two lemons and a self-coloured cloth?
Two … why two? Why not one? Or three?
Cut one. CUT ONE.

Two bits of lemon, one lemon and a self-coloured cloth.
What colour? No colour. Just self colour.
Self? What self? No self, no me, no …….
Ah – red. Scarlet. Red rag red under the bed BLOOD RED.

One lemon, two bits of lemon, and a blood red cloth.
Red bleeds into yellow makes orange makes
an orange lemon, two bits of lemon and a blood red cloth.
With some shadows, black shadows – What’s dark on red?
Some blue, some distance, some calm.

One orange lemon, two bits of lemon and some purple shades in a blood red cloth,
with blue lights in the white pith of cut lemon
and the dark of woody pips,
and on the bitter lemon yellow of cut flesh.

One orange lemon, two bits of lemon with green and yellow flesh,
bluish pith and blue pips
on a blood red cloth with purple shades.

And look! The sun shines through the window,
touching a soft spot on the bits of lemon,
on the orange lemon and the green flesh,
on the blue pips and the blood red cloth.

The blood red blushes rosy pink – rosy oh! that’s me.
I’ve painted my very own picture of
two lemons and a self-coloured cloth.