The Pink Studio
Old drapes torn from their pliant rods
draped over a new canvas in patterns
of low maintenance infatuation. On we
go, looming over the textile factory,
a cello buried in the workshop closet
is enigmatic, so he stains it pink. Pink
like children, crustacean pink, since
repeating an idea is subtle masturbation.
Bells toll, silhouettes are self-possessed
though when the spider dies its web
unravels. Repeat the past, paint it pink
& sit there for eternity, stoic like a charm.
Soon the lambs will enter, then the wolves
dragging pray to stain the powdery snow.
This poem was written for the 20 Poem Challenge.
JIM DAVIS is a student of Human Development and Psychology at Harvard University and has previously studied at Northwestern University and Knox College. He reads for TriQuarterly and his work has appeared in Bellevue Literary Review, The Harvard Crimson, Portland Review, Midwest Quarterly, and California Journal of Poetics, among others. In addition to writing and painting, Jim is an international semi-professional American football player. @JimDavisArt
The Ekphrastic Review
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