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Limits

We skipped the required chapters
jumping instead to pages at random
taking turns reading
until the last light left.
We’d always let the machine take the call
penciling in details
penknives close at hand.
At other times - slow times -
we’d squint to see if a smidgen
of indifference had fallen
from the tall pines
which seemed to be everywhere.
As expected the questions
at the end were difficult
the silence seeing into the distance
and beyond, leaving little, other
than doubts of reds, greens, blues.

Exorcism of the Last Painting I Ever Made  by Tracey Emin