The single finger of Saint Jean Baptiste
illumines shadows in double or triplicate--
a stroke more light on the backside of the hand
and the saint prepares to backhand the inquisitor,
a stroke less and he is saying: heaven.
We perceive enough light
to know well we know nothing--
that the forearm and waxen muscle
may blush in fifty petals of the rose,
and still no matter--
that the gaze of saints
may be cast from the eyes of stones,
and still the water will roll away from us.
Once, the saints were men and women,
but now they are done with all of that
and live in the elutriate folds
of glaze on glaze on canvas.
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Jerry is a student majoring in Fine Arts and Visual Culture online at Curtin University. His artistic and critical practice is preoccupied with both contemporary and historical still photography. Jerry has a professional background in IT and spends his spare time working with a community orchestra as an amateur sound engineer and programme annotator.