SCULPTURE – A POEM

Uncategorized, Writing

I stand in the hangar of the gallery,

white walls and lofty heights,

echoes, forms of boundless light,

beacons of the pained.

 

Ornate frames of oil, of paste,

a boreal veil caught in place

near autumn ochre trapped by paint,

an exhibition, captive cells.

 

Those mirrors gleam, gloss

a yolk, reflect no more

than air, then smoke;

 

I see myself a

sculpture carved by loss.

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