TOM HATCH – Two Poems

Posted: April 29, 2013 in Fiction, Poetry
Tags: , , , , ,

Art Girls Breaking My Heart

Walking very deliberate to view works of art

steps are steady to balance as they stare

eyes wide open sometimes mouth parting as

if to speak softly of their opinion

on what was just seen. Then on to see the next

a diptych, triptych or a sculpture walking up to, then backing

so slowly eyes held in a trance to be spell-bound.



The large abstractions are the best

Pollock, Franz Klein and Willem de Kooning

can become all too consuming teetering

at their size as the girls get

too close looking up getting a little faint.

Gazing around the room for the hard cold

bench. It is fully taken up by the oldies that have seen it

all before. But, not the art girls this is their first try

they are the virgins to this type of exhibit and exhibitionism.



Rodin drives them wild, white stone, dark patinated bronze

in the realm of his stuff they see themselves

bent back beauties, kneeling down in desire and despair

twisted exquisiteness. Their cheeks turning flush

looking for that bench again. This one holds

the oldies and me. I watch them as a voyeur

The art chicks they break my heart

Their beautifully naive perception

abstracted tilted heads





Idling car I want to sleep

With you lying on the garage floor



Baseball player up at bat

I want to be your bat



Jack hammering the street

I want to be Jack



Oh plastic dry cleaners bag

Please let us kiss in un-breathing lungs



There you are my bank robber

I become the security guard

Pulling out his gun very late



Adding a little spice the stand up man

The joke that nobody laughs at



Gleaming cinematic blade

Covering my glow cuts a flung wrist



An un-swim able man standing in the shallows

Walking to the deep wrapped around my ankles



The bottom end of the grave stone

In three feet of earth letting

The frozen heaves make

the engraved end crooked

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