Summer 2006 • Vol. XXVIII No. 3 PoetryJuly 1, 2006 |

Sketches from Lucian Freud Paintings at the Tate, 2003. Colours of a Breast

"Wind very brisk… clouds moving very fast…"—John Constable, 1822 Cream and pale greenmauve and tangerine.The blues of slight bruises.Rouge, pink, milky teaginger, lime, verdigris. Strangely, there is nothingentirely raw here. It isnudity of tint in full dress. It's a kind of slipperysymphony, or egg-shelledchamber music—The interior strings of mother,a drying breeze in the nursery. As ifwith the fullness of weather,a firm study of cloudsover the softHeath has been carried indoors.

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