the tender

by Amantine B

He dried her into Hourdequin tempera;

fed her tender pebbles fractioned from

Lacasse paper.  Postcards of bleak pictoria;

a conjurer of doves tongued to his beak.

Mis-en-scene de Tournai, in the rain.

He let her live amid feathers, to serve her,

whipped of paint and mulch; an older texture

spun for breakfast.

She kept Joseph's letters, forgetful of his name.