I was the canvas, as were you
One canvas to each other
and on the wall
with knees underneath
indecent exposure
naked mind of mine
Flushed out edges of this unique bedspread
a shower curtain used as a tablecloth
used as an ashtray
This was her only wedding dress
Wedding dress two dollars and seventeen cents
value market discount white sale
Found in the back when
suddenly everything was zebra stripes
and she was already ten minutes late
But what is time to a pack of teeth?
A high-ceiling filled with nostrils and bat claws
smouldering tar-stained enamel
fits nicely on the frayed corners
of her tablecloth underwear
and brushed away the ashes
leaving half-finished highways
and dark-stained alleys
and brooding courtships
She missed her basement apartment
and the way no one took her seriously
and the Grand Finale!
and riding high
and the blue ribbons
that sometimes came with last place
and windows and pillows
darkened sleep patterns with silver eyes
half-moon Iris
She isn’t home anymore
She left for a smoke
and the sidewalk took her
Michael Sinclaire/Mary Fahey. March 2013.
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 5:42 PM UTC
I was the canvas, as were you
One canvas to each other
and on the wall
with knees underneath
indecent exposure
naked mind of mine
Flushed out edges of this unique bedspread
a shower curtain used as a tablecloth
used as an ashtray
This was her only wedding dress
Wedding dress two dollars and seventeen cents
value market discount white sale
Found in the back when
suddenly everything was zebra stripes
and she was already ten minutes late
But what is time to a pack of teeth?
A high-ceiling filled with nostrils and bat claws
smouldering tar-stained enamel
fits nicely on the frayed corners
of her tablecloth underwear
and brushed away the ashes
leaving half-finished highways
and dark-stained alleys
and brooding courtships
She missed her basement apartment
and the way no one took her seriously
and the Grand Finale!
and riding high
and the blue ribbons
that sometimes came with last place
and windows and pillows
darkened sleep patterns with silver eyes
half-moon Iris
She isn’t home anymore
She left for a smoke
and the sidewalk took her
Michael Sinclaire/Mary Fahey. March 2013.
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