I’ve harnessed myself ridiculously to this world,
bought some no-sand spackling, and laid 0ut a tarp.
I will not be a fool again, mixing paints for four
sister walls, only to be left with no match for touch-
ups. Because you know damn well someone always leaves
a mark, or wants to re-hang art in a new, inventive way.
So this time I’ll let my hands mix only all whites
in a can. White is white– is white, & it’s just a primer.
This way the blue can be pure. Every wall blue, every
time. And like Van Gogh. And like Michelangelo, I’ll paint
my Sistine chapel Antartica 37C-2. And when I’m chipping
eggshells off my elbows and hands in the shower, I’ll
notice how rare a really beautiful hand is now, you know,
since the harp and Sistine chapels have gone out of fashion.
**kicking off National Poetry Month**
Day 1 at Real Toads