Poetry Archives N-O

Other Things that Hitler Did

Paris the mottled canvas
trembling beneath
a rabid brush
your mother painted there
in a corner
amidst the red and black
bodies and blood and resistance
holding her outline
as her center faded
was washed with gray and green
and you a sketchy presence
in her arms
a scarred scared thing
holding a scarred scared thing
until you stood alone
walked away
bearing her scars and your own
I still smell the turpentine
on my skin
when I think of us
what you used
to try and wash clean
the very things that made you
to create something blank
over a twisted masterpiece
you wanted to go by the numbers
red green gray blue
sections outlined in black
as though
the portrait of your occupation
wasn’t already
on display
hermetically sealed
in your museum
the artist’s name
carved deep in a corner
never to be forgotten
 
 
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