49th 

 

 

We go to the cornerstone art gallery at 49th

Another one people prefer for window-shopping

And you tell me once humans were part of a whole

You cut with your hands through the air

When you explain how we all were                        divided                   from another

I remember watching you train for Kendo at 8

And how the wooden sword was too big for your limbs

 

A woman in a lime green coat stands in front of the Barnett Newman

The only rectangle in the store that deserves naming

She’s asking for the red to swallow her up

I tell you I don’t believe in soulmates and eye your vexed frown

I know you don’t your mouth curls downward 

Like when you try to bend a ruler till it bre

                                                                       aks in half

Anger management

 

Our hands are covered in splashes of happy and smell of turpentine

The bodyguard with laughter lines on his cheeks ponders

Either we made these paintings, or we want them for ourselves?

I whisper in your ear and tape back the broken plastic ruler

Therapy 

No, we have enough canvases already 

                                     and some deserve naming back at ours

 

Let me dream the words escape from between your lips

Chapped from worrying over never finding love

The lime green lady leaves still green. No buying.

My eyes find the Newman and I'm proud of the red for refusing her

The bodyguard with laughter lines step step steps to us

We are the only ones left and it’s closing time

I rip my gaze from the red to the red staining your hand

And drag you by it towards you will be whole again