Lorraine Singh

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Eve’s Art Room

Eve, a small, slight, wiry art teacher
with paint on her hands
drives the school van with skills
of a seasoned courier driver.
She collects children scattered across
the universe like troubled thoughts
children homesick for arms of warm women
to be thrown around them
and for unforgettable smells like organic
Malian Shea butter or the taste of coffee
made over charcoal.
Haere mai children. Haere mai.
Welcome to Eve’s art room
a room flooded with incomprehensible light
where blind swordfish as large as cows
push off white walls and fly
like laughter from sunlit windows.


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