Here is the under-painting (below), and follow-up that still needs some work around the edges – and the final:
WORM IN MOONLIGHT
Now we have no ears, no eyes, but imagine we’ll see
What’s really in the mirror.
Moonlight, I mused when we were young, flatters me,
But eventually one stops examining the body,
And pauses before ascending the tower
That one must erect now and then;
Perhaps we will laugh about it later,
But now that the case of the wilting flowers
and all they reflect has become so grave,
The pears are set on the table without a sound,
And we just eat, while waiting for some kind of salve
To carry us carefully out of the ground.
– Pia Marrella Cisternino