The Critics said for years
she was too predictable ... painting only
one shade of sky.
They seemed disturbed
by the lacy, layered blue
she had perfected
- a white-blue
that skittered across the canvas
- a blue that is sometimes heard singing in
high tension wires....
In the end she compromised;
used different hues
- dotted black swans on the hem of cirrus cloud
- brushed in the half-grey light of storms.
They said her art had come of age
but it felt like selling out.
She never had the dream again
where her body let go
its own blue centre
and spiralled up to light
like egg white
in glass blown air.