Gauguins in a Honolulu Gallery
They burst a wall with Tahitian sex,
fruit in alien hues;
trees are gods granting women shade.
I widen like a path in a clearing.
In the gallery restaurant,
I eat what I can afford with lifted
I sit alone with quiet hands.
My spine is a rod
lit with colour.
If you have any comments on this poem, Helen Addy would be