at the walker art center, minneapolis.

By katekaos

We walk together.
Your hand, slightly smaller
than my own, a feeling
almost alien yet
becoming familiar,
embeds itself tightly within
my grasp.

We walk together
through
these angular, modernistic
thoughtforms, brought
to catastrophic life
with pencils,
pen,
ink,
oils,
sculpted out of the ether.

I take a picture
of you, standing
silently, eyes wide.
Against a wall of pink,
round, anime eyes.
Watching you, as I do.

I wish somehow
that I could capture
this swelling in the pit
of my stomach, these
butterflies

(AH! such a girl I am)

in my innards, capture
them and make
it into something beautiful
for you.

But I watch as you
stand before a piece,
a shroud painted blue by bodies dipped
in paint, a piece
chronicled
deftly in a film I love
and I smile as I see
you gaze at the outline
of nudity.

I am.
Hoping that you
will save some of that
expression for home,
and the warmth of your
bed, where
we will intertwine far

from these white walls that
remind me too much of
a future I don't want to live.

I brush your
arm, and we walk
on, your brown hair slightly
tousled and my love
for you greater
than I could have
imagined.

Document
at the walker art center, minneapolis.

Created: May 06, 2010

Tags:

Document Media

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