Oil on Pine This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.


I look upward and straight ahead from where I lie
likea midnight driver traveling an interstate

Fantastic cherubs soar atunknown heights above the thin mattress on which I sleep

Not ancientremnants of a Venetian palazzo, but painted only eighteen years ago

Theirpresent condition would never hint to their age
Like me, they too havesurvived the humid salty summers of this coast

The pain of the oncesophisticated radiant sky of a Titian has transformed

The blue now havingturned the surreal color of weathered copper

The once appropriate mustardhas turned a harsh imperial yellow

Where overflowing water from the ironbathtub above has stained the same mustard,

it is a violenttangerine

In great contrast to the other vivid hues, the plump round faceshave become all the

more pallid and severe

And the once gracefultiny wings by which they flutter, now appear ridiculous and

evennauseating

Once a smooth unassuming ceiling of pine planks, it has aged toabsorb the paint in

long uneven strips

Each piece of woodabsorbing the decorating uniquely

They appear before me as the bars of aprison ...
me on one side, fantastic and otherworldly beings on the other...
me in my cage ... for their protection ... for mine?

The unsureshades of a Technicolor marvel lined as though the antennae are

notpositioned correctly

The glowing of a screen which surrounds, whichscreams




This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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