Proud to be included in the last issue of Deracine

 cancel art 

i find you taped to his walls, 

paper -thin & only a sketch,

 as if a work -in -progress. 

beneath my feet 

the crunch of pencil shavings. 

in the kitchen he's slumped in a chair, 

eyes still as moth balls his skin ashen.

 he must have died before completing you. 

 gently peel you down 

carefully removing the adhesive backing 

as if stuck to my own skin. 

i carry you home trying to breathe life into you. 

color spreads across your face 

your eyes turning watercolor blue then it all fades. 

exhausted, i quit. & i am left

 with the blind wrinkled hands

 my hands 

that once fed you solid food.