In The Artist’s Studio

A Poem By Molly Hawcutt

In The Artist’s Studio

For Geoff

He takes me with a hand

as rough as sand,

or the face of rocks,

which sends cold shocks through me.

The whole place reeks of oil.

Strong shining bands

to capture the light

from heavenly bodies.

Here sun and moon

are detained for pleasure:

Never to rise or set

Nor let me forget

A moment in time

when all things

came together.

by Molly Hawcutt