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Cover image for post Paintings and Sculptures (selections), by chriswind
chriswind in Poetry & Free Verse

Paintings and Sculptures (selections)

The Last Supper

this is more like it

a bunch of men are watching the game

there are twelve of them, cheering, yelling,

sprawled on the couch, the chairs, the floor

and one, front row center, in the lazyboy

(must be his house this rec room is in)

they all have a bottle of beer in one hand

and a chunk of pizza in the other

there's some serious emotion going on here

passionate talk

about what happened and why

what should be happening

and what's gonna happen

all accompanied with nudges and backslapping

(at the end they'll be hugging)

there are differences of opinion

heated exchanges

but their devotion to the game

is never in question

(except for the guy in the corner

the one with the glasses

who brought a book)

(he was going to bring a woman

for god's sake!)

***

Mona

she isn't smiling

she didn't feel like smiling

come on, he coaxed

just a little smile, for me?

he pleaded

a young woman should never be without

a smile,

he chided

a face as beautiful as yours—

he flattered

she gave up, she gave in

she smiled

it felt fake, it felt stupid

but i'm smiling, okay

are you happy now?

he scheduled another sitting

she still wasn't smiling

she didn't feel like smiling

come on, he coaxed again

just a little smile—

to thine own self be true

she refused

he felt threatened

it was a sacrilege

so he righted the wrong

tried to project the curve of her lips

didn't do so well

he scheduled another sitting

what's the big deal

she grinned

this smile could be the face

of any number of thoughts

it's a mystery only to minds

not expecting, unable to consider

anything on a woman but that

vapid shallow simple girlish

smile

he went back to the original

unsmiling

***

Rape of the Sabine Woman

trained to be fast,

he has easily outrun her—

taller, heavier,

he lifts her off the ground—

using the strength of his work-muscled arm

he pins her pelvis against his chest—

his other arm reaches across her shoulders

and stops her from arching away—

her right arm flails for leverage

while her left pulls back, ready,

her fingers gripping tightly

the knife

that will even out the odds

***

Trans-Canada Tailings

in the next room

someone has sculpted Canada

into a huge relief map:

as i walk the length of the room

i notice the teeny-weeny lobster traps,

the CN Tower of course, and the Skydome,

the patchwork prairies, Lake Louise,

the chairlifts at Whistler;

it's large, no doubt about it,

with lots of detail,

and it'd be of no consequence

except that

all along the highway

from coast to coast

winding its way

throughout

the land

this stuff is piled—

higher than the dinky cars

placed at the intersections—

garbage, i guess

but it's glowing

(from one tiny

maple-leaf signpost

to the next)

***

(free downloads of the complete collection at chriswind.net)