Wednesday 28 August 2019

In Absentia


    for Miranda

You remember being taken
to the art gallery in Paisley
where you would stare up at
Dali’s Christ of St John.

I, in my parallel universe,
would stare up at
its copy,
on a bedroom wall.

And I like to think of us,
in our respective childhoods,
just once,
staring at the same picture –

you at the real thing, me at the reproduction –
at precisely the same moment,
with the same sense of awe,
invisibly connected.

No comments:

Post a Comment