Adapt

Val Drew wonders why the painter’s palette is absent of color…

adapt 

when i was a child

you told me plainly

“i will paint you

the sun.” and i 

craved that warmth.

then you said 

“after i finish 

the stars, my dear.”

and will you

ever finish the 

stars? i see

you, highlighting

the ursa major

endlessly with your

brush, after i grew

up, after years,

no yellow on 

your palette.

Author’s note: This piece was specifically written for “Mum’s Garage”. The idea for the poem is that companies keep rehashing / rebooting art when they could be making new art [i.e. Disney] using a metaphor of a painter and a child.

Direction to the Art Dept was: “endless repetition / bad copies”


About the Author

Val Drew [they/them] has been worming out of the Earth for a while. They are a young, queer, fat, and autistic creative in Eastern Massachusetts. Their work is featured or upcoming with Fifth Wheel Press, BULLSHIT LIT, Delicate Friend and Exist Otherwise. Find out more at helgaki.crd.co.



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