Shipyard silhouetted against the sunset
calm yellows and muted oranges hold hands and whisper friendship to each other
impassioned reds dance with the blues and blacks of a bruised autumn evening
above the ocean so serene it sings the ships to sleep
This wing is deserted. I
read your letters-- that was
a nice gesture. maybe if this painted world was ours
The world of ships and sunsets and sorrows and songs and
The distorted faces of the Cubists accuse me
frozen in geometric pain
coward, they call in tongues of ice and steel
for shame. They’re loud, so loud,
cacophony in empty rooms
I can’t THINK in here. I only see green pastures
Fields of violets dipped in vernal dew, infernal who?
David’s body dogs my steps
I wonder how much sin this statue’s seen--
Setbacks. Momentary setbacks. I came here for a reason
I came here for a statement--
a sign that I was right to want to go--
I leave him behind.
He doesn’t seem to mind.
the courtyard holds the answers. no sordid golden frames
no plaques with long forgotten names
no perfect body crafted by a lover’s hand
I watch the skies and think of wars
of wedding parties crashed by drones
the sky holds only calm yellows and muted oranges
The bruised blacks and blues of the same night
they might’ve seen
all those damn people--
I shake up some spray paint and add my final contribution
Maybe I’ll get a plaque.