As promised, more poems

 As I take a break from my work, I lean my

forehead against my bent knees.  My feet are

resting on the white tile– Funny how that is,

considering where we are.  I’m surprised the

floor hasn’t already been covered with color,

residue, or any leftover messes.

There’s chit chatter all around me—hadn’t

noticed it before.  To my left, a teacher is

commenting on a student’s assignment,

“The hue there can be a little more saturated”

A loud bang makes me turn my head to the back

of me.  A girl has plopped her bag full of 14 x 12

canvases, “I never thought small canvases could be

this heavy ‘til carrying this whole lot”

In the corner, another kneels down in front of her

triptych, one hand is on a knee while the other

holds a paintbrush.  Next to the doors beside her

sits a guy lost in thought, looking back and forth from

small tattered photograph and his work.  His nose is

almost pressed up against it.  The smell of burnt wax and

sawdust hits my nostrils.  I breathe in a sigh.

Another day in art school.

    -Sarah Veloso 2012

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