I remember it all
so well
can tell
every... little... detail
down to the
although
I can’t remember it
at all.
Told so often by my mother
that I can
recall it
all
her
memory of the memory
of me
until it is so
real
that I really feel
it for real.
They, leave me
a newly 2 yr. old
to play
in the garden
thrilled by the grass
between my toes
gazing cross-eyed
at the ladybird on my nose.
Somehow
(even then)
I have paper & pen
in hand
but soon tire
of scribbling masterpieces
that no one notices
(nothing changes)
& so
to relieve the boredom
(I suppose)
I take off
all my clothes
(nothing changes)
delighted with
my dangly bits
(nothing changes)
I take
the asaid fore-mentioned biro
in hand and
draw in
the creases
I can see
around my scrotum.
Pleased with my self
& its pretty patterns
until arrested
by the passing
Military Police
who
call my mother out
& inform her
(I suppose)
of some military
code
prohibiting the
drawing of rings ‘round
one’s
scrotum.
Thus, it was that
severely scolded, scoffed, mocked
& laughed at
I decided
not to become
a professional
artist.
Dónall Dempsey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/world-loses-great-artist-for-janice/
