Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2021
We held hands
as we approached it,
the pink, black,
orange monument.
We stood as if we expected
something from it,
but it failed us,
an indifferent oracle.
Your hand slipped from mine
as you stepped closer,
for a second you were
inside it, eaten whole
by its hide glue mouth,
before you drifted
in diagonals
to other colors.
https://www.nga.gov/collection/art-object-page.67493.html
Evan Stephens
Written by
Evan Stephens  44/M/DC
(44/M/DC)   
80
   ju and Thomas W Case
Please log in to view and add comments on poems