8. A l b e r t P a r k : A n A s s a y .
a)
We meet at the tree
She, brilliant, black hair and cloudless blue eyes.
I hold her to me.
b)
The centre of her lenses are black. I speak to them. I pose:
-Who are you really?
c)
She presses her face to me.
d)
She considers:
Shedecides to simply say
-I am a black, a palette. Bright dyes spin off me
and cast the city. I push it out.
'And the city?'
-I pull it in.
