Kiss

£150.00

Kiss was named after Ellen Bass’s poem of the same name.

When Lynne saw the lizard floating
in her mother-in-law's swimming pool,
she jumped in. And when it wasn't
breathing, its body limp as a baby
drunk on milk, she laid it on her palm
and pressed one fingertip to its silky breast
with just about the force you need
to test the ripeness of a peach, only quicker,
a brisk little push with a bit of spring in it.
Then she knelt, dripping wet in her Doc Martens
and camo T-shirt with the neck ripped out,
and bent her face to the lizard's face,
her big plush lips to the small stiff jaw
that shed pried apart with her opposable thumb,
and she blew a tiny puff into the lizard's lungs.
The sun glared against the turquoise water.
What did it matter if she saved one lizard?
One lizard more or less in the world?
But she bestowed the kiss of life,
again and again, until
the lizard's wrinkled lids peeled back,
its muscles roused its own first breath
and she set it on the hot cement
where it rested a moment
before darting off.
An Ellen Bass poem from
her book Indigo

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Free shipping within the UK. Shipping for international orders will be added at checkout.

This painting comes ready to hang for instant impact. 12” x 12” oil and cold wax on paper mounted on 2cm deep wood . Signed on the front.

Please note: International orders may be subject to import duties and taxes on delivery. These charges are the responsibility of the recipient and are outside our control.

Kiss was named after Ellen Bass’s poem of the same name.

When Lynne saw the lizard floating
in her mother-in-law's swimming pool,
she jumped in. And when it wasn't
breathing, its body limp as a baby
drunk on milk, she laid it on her palm
and pressed one fingertip to its silky breast
with just about the force you need
to test the ripeness of a peach, only quicker,
a brisk little push with a bit of spring in it.
Then she knelt, dripping wet in her Doc Martens
and camo T-shirt with the neck ripped out,
and bent her face to the lizard's face,
her big plush lips to the small stiff jaw
that shed pried apart with her opposable thumb,
and she blew a tiny puff into the lizard's lungs.
The sun glared against the turquoise water.
What did it matter if she saved one lizard?
One lizard more or less in the world?
But she bestowed the kiss of life,
again and again, until
the lizard's wrinkled lids peeled back,
its muscles roused its own first breath
and she set it on the hot cement
where it rested a moment
before darting off.
An Ellen Bass poem from
her book Indigo

----------

Free shipping within the UK. Shipping for international orders will be added at checkout.

This painting comes ready to hang for instant impact. 12” x 12” oil and cold wax on paper mounted on 2cm deep wood . Signed on the front.

Please note: International orders may be subject to import duties and taxes on delivery. These charges are the responsibility of the recipient and are outside our control.