There is a great sadness in town.
A young wife and mother has died
of what made her a woman gone wrong.
Her husband and son mourn
before the unfinished canvas which
would have been the rest of her life.
They treasure the part of the painting that is finished
and ache in the eyes of their imaginations to see more.
Now numb,
they hold the tear smeared brushes and palettes
they will paint with for the rest of their lives.
Grief drips like bitter honey from a spoon.
Neighbors come offering bread.