Free-Write Poem With Picture #3

Alexander Tinei

Today's her birthday and we are arcs
of light in the afterdark
pharmacy, playing paper, scissors,
stone with the Ativan
machine. Our one religion
of breaking and entering. Her reflection
in blue-grain tinsel
through the moon-tomb
windowpane is a Renaissance
painting of classic,
anaesthetic proportions. Lowering
the sulphur and the hovering
lanterns of illuminated
barbiturates, down into
the cavern of our lungs’
breathless apparatus, the song
begins. And if she remembers
the words she shall be dead.
In the dream, a nuisance man, wearing
surgical mask, flags a hearse, waving
tombstone-white dove.

(Another free-write poem fragment by me – and painting by the amazing artist Alexander Tinei)

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