In a
suffering life
pain is its
documentary

or music of
paint,

Monet cello
playing strains of
blue and
magenta –

some obvious
mood

as a bridge
reaching across
a pond

arched tragically.

What is
what flows
below,

lilies transported
along?

This is not
surreal.

Whether colours can
represent,

this is not
surreal.

It is the
opposite.

A suffering life,
palpable,
plays as a comment,

no more.