Two years ago
her fingers
stained red beneath her nails
pillowed and splattered
layers of anger on canvas

paints and brushes littered her bedroom
where canvas stretched on frames
and love was lost under the mattress

collectors purchased her works
hoping to alarm viewers
like a siren alerts distracted drivers

at tonight's showing
she walks with a smile
as broad as a tourist
in a Japanese Garden

brilliant white works
cover each easel matching
her snowy cotton dress

In a back room  red's,
hidden under blue, green
and yellow cans and canvas,
fade daily.