Egon Schiele at Krumlov

“The line does not end where the arm ends,but where the thought leaves the line.” — Leopold Museum, Vienna

As the lapidarian eye placed a caress
above the stocking end line, casting about
in the cascading thought for blue shiners,
fish that reflected lacy signatures in those
imprints of yearn falling away from
that skin fold of studious art endeavours,
where button breasts diamante their way
out across masquerading candle smoke,
posing out of love or money who cares –
for the confetti drop that springs the trap
on the shattering diamond light subsiding
in the river aching its way from wrists,
the window knows the feint in reappraisal
a side of palm to make good the merged lovers,
gemstones cut into each other so no edge
separated them from the jeweller’s intent.

James Walton is an Australian poet published in newspapers, and many journals, and anthologies. Short listed twice for the ACU National Literature Prize, a double prize winner in the MPU International Poetry Prize, Specially Commended in The Welsh Poetry Competition – his collection ‘The Leviathan’s Apprentice’ was published in 2015.James Walton was a lot of things. A librarian, a farm labourer, a cattle breeder, and mostly a public sector union organizer. He is published in many anthologies, journals, and newspapers. He is now invisible in his seventh decade.