(Poem) A Painting of the Artificial

A light sapphire sky
infiltrated
by the dark ruby haze of the afternoon sun,
the opal clouds
shimmering from both contrasting shades above
slowly float past my woody tiger eyes.
The emerald sea
of short grass wet with diamond tears
greets my bare, fleshy-pink feet—
squirming and soft, ugly
unlike the background around me.
If I were painted in the center
of this canvas of beautiful colors,
I would be
unnatural
just like
my father
in our family portrait.