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Donall Dempsey
Poems
Jun 2018
WHAT ELSE IS A MIND FOR?
WHAT ELSE IS A MIND FOR?
He bent low
as he entered the door
but his wings
caught on the lintel.
"**** this human habitation
it was obviously not built for
angels
in mind."
He cursed his cursing.
"God forgive me for swearing!"
It was his first time
on earth
and he had been used to being
only a painting.
I never held that against him.
Wasn't it my mind that snatched him
from such an existence?
When I say "He"
I could have said "She."
Such awesome androgyny!
"Gender just isn't our thing."
A bit like
Prospero's Ariel.
I had prised him from
a painting of an Annunciation.
There was a squelch
and a **** of paint.
Somewhere in Florence
an angel vanished
leaving behind
an angel-shaped hole.
And I
had made him real.
Kidnapped him
from the reproduction I had found him in.
Why?
What else is a mind for?
After all I was
going to grow into a poet.
He always showed
just the one side of him
as the other side would have been
just canvas backing.
So he walked
like an Egyptian.
He become a friend
so to speak.
I thought him how
to talk.
And other such human
being accomplishments.
He was thankful
to be made real.
He had been paint
for such a long long time
it had become a pain
in the...ahhh...neck.
And he had had cramp
for over a century
on the top of his left
wing.
He had wanted to sneeez
for years and years.
He thought I was amazing
hadn't realised the human
imagination
could do such a thing.
"You're a bit like God
in that respect!"
I was only 7
at the time
and my mind hadn't closed down
into being a grown up.
I thought that with all this
Catholic Education
shoved down my throat
about guardian angels and such
then I would make my own
steal one from a painting
just add thought.
Ok so the paint was
made flesh.
After all as I've already said
what else is
a mind for
when one is going to grow
into a poet.
Written by
Donall Dempsey
Guildford
(Guildford)
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