(Thirty Pieces of Silver – Arthur Boyd)
Australian National Gallery

He’s wrong – there’s only grief and silver here.
Faces face away and fingers, still for now,
have hidden twitches in them. Somewhere there’s
a cross and hangman’s knot – not far away.
Some things are missing though. For instance, where’s
that frankness in the face – the opening hands,
honest, strong and offering – quiet eyes that show
our open-windowed souls, our candor and
a conscience settled and at rest. You know,
the way we always are when we betray.

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