Girl with a Blue Scarf
She sits against the porridge-coloured wall
watchful and suspicious,
with the look of a frightened fawn,
her oval face and Slavic eyes wary
beneath her ragged crow-black fringe,
her little rodent paws curled
in the mulberry pool of her skirt.
The room is freezing. The grate empty.
The carte de charbon far too dear.
Both of them might well ask
what they’re doing here,
shivering in this pale dun light,
one watchful, the other watching.
The concierge from the rue de l’Ouest,
the young painter from Tenby.
Late afternoon. Her paint is dry
as wood ash, laid down with tiny,
speckled strokes until the girl
appears timorous as a thought.
Silent as prayer.
by Sue Hubbard
From God’s Little Artist:
poems on the life of Gwen John
published @Seren Books
The Painting Here:
Enjoying the content on 3QD? Help keep us going by donating now.