a close examination of an older painting

"Peace," he tells her as they sip red wine
and look at a painting she painted
before she was this woman in a black dress.

"Peace has nothing
to do with words," he points
at the top corner where the orange
touches the dark bright blue. "Peace

is where all the colors stand
alone and together -
as one picture - one possibility - 
of men daring to love in the face
of an angry brush stroke."

She says nothing, but takes another
sip. "Perhaps, peace is more
than that?" she asks.

"No," he says, "No. It is that. 
Just that."