Poetry: The Bath by David Sapp

The Bath Something – everything Wrong all wrong I know now I didn’t then I burst in – intuitively Propelled by my Own vague memory There a too familiar Too intimate scene Mother and little sister In the bath together Annulling “perfectly innocent” Mother reclining in warm water Child standing shivering Naked confused paralysis At […]

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Poetry: Master and Pupil

Master and Pupil by David Sapp   When he was a young man, an earnest but nutty art student, Charles Robert came to my door painted head-to-toe in Ultramarine Blue, seeking advice and turpentine. Even then, he could have been a blue Krishna wooing Radha. Now colleagues, he is the swami, and I remain, as […]