this thing i wrote
May. 17th, 2021 07:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
morgue_n
A teacher at school asked me if i could do a poem for the kids. i dug up this old thing. figured i'd post it here for posterity.
............................................
i once met the angel who paints sunsets
outside a diner. she kissed her cig with a lighter, toking twisting trains of smoke and sipping coffee, black as bibles.
her tired face, hardened from the sun's stare, carried a ton of spare weight.
"what's the matter?" i asked her.she sucked a mucky breath down the barrel of the cigarette tucked between her two filmy fingers and frowned. She spit, shuff-led her feet, taking her disgust out on the dusty street. "are you familiar with my art?"
"yes," I said with no hesitation. I had often gazed in amazement at the work emblazoned on the heavens.
"Okay, then." Her statement was not a question. it was an unpleasant accusation. "How many sunsets have you watched in entirety. Don't lie to me."
i reckoned awhile while she stood there impatiently. In all the years of life that had transpired,
i'd admired fewer than 50 sunsets entirely.
"How old are you?" she inquired.
"24," for this was many years before.
her eyes glassed as she tasked herself with the mental math, and she swore, "Damn, So basically you've been around for 8,760 days, give or take, and have seen fewer than 50 sunsets all the way?
my
career
is
a
waste."
she flicked her cig, withdrew another stick, lit it with fire from her fingertips, and split.
........................................
I once met the angel who paints the night. he was hiding under the bright, sweeping body of his art, weeping a twinkling tear for every quiet star that
d
r
i
p
p
e
d
down his canvas.
i couldn't stand it. "angel," i asked, "why are you crying?"
"You wouldn't understand," he whispered in a voice like scripture. "Have you seen the famous angel who paints the sunset on high? i idolize her for the
pain and regret she on dyed light in the skies...reflects
Meanwhile, I paint the night," he sighed "stark darkness,"
"but the stars," I started, but he'd already lost heart.
"i'm just a reject. why do I try."
and depressed, he wept, head hung, shoulders slung. discussion done, he left.........................................
I once met the angel who paints the sunrise.
chuckling, smiling, he paints with delight with no brush-- in smooth smears that gush through his fingers and lush colors in swirls that cover his collar, his cuffs, and his curls
Impressed by his m i r t h and overt vigor for life, I asked him for whom he paints.
He giggled and chortled before his reply,
"i paint for fun."
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no subject
Date: 2021-05-18 11:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-05-18 01:46 pm (UTC)