Cohesion is a
promise we cannot
keep. Things fly
apart. That is
nature’s way.
Sometimes in our
foolish moments
we think that art
can stop the dis-
integration.
Art can’t start or
stop anything.
See: the paint is
already fading.
The woman
in the painting
is receding to
the farthest edge
of the universe,
or of what
will be left there
when we reach
that bitter end.