Two beautiful paintings
are leaned against my stereo
on the floor
one depicting a goddess
among the tigers
a dragonfly in the air
a rose in her hand
the other
dressing her up
like the goddess of war
spear in hand
ready to fight
an unseen enemy
there are holes in all the walls
around me
put there by the
adolescent fist of my
anger
making all the times I
lost control
painfully obvious
I pick the paintings up
one by one
and begin to cover the holes
with the paintings
disguising my mistakes
with the beauty another
has created
the paintings begin
to hide my rage
Mona Lisa
atop a sewer tunnel
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem