![]() Painter Outside this window is a Lowry. Thick white sky, painted around stiff terracotta chimney pots: not quite straight/ smoke can’t travel in a line/ people relate to imperfect things, anyhow. Stick men trapped in tableau of oil and turpentine; a mass of layers and fixings; my viscous realisation of you. Elucidation in snow and gloom; in bright white pain; or grey confusion. Noxious candyfloss urban scene; a city with black lungs; factories puffing dirty smokers’ breath into claustrophobic panorama. You, flattered with colour; naïve; matchstick unstruck. This window does not complicate. It caught you in a grid: segmented/ abstracted. You wouldn’t recognise yourself. Still, I see so much of myself, in what I’ve made of you. Amy Louise Wyatt Amy Louise Wyatt is a lecturer, poet and artist from Bangor, N.I. She has had work published in a range of literary journals and magazines. Amy has read her poetry on The BBC Arts Show and at festivals throughout Ireland . She is the editor of The Bangor Literary Journal and was shortlisted for the Seamus Heaney Award for New Writing 2018. amylouisewyatt.com
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The Ekphrastic Review
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April 2025
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