Please don’t forget, the paintings seem to say
Like an echo in a constant ricochet
From past to present, down crow-straight timelines,
In a language made up of looks and signs,
Ancestral syringe injecting today.
It’s difficult to keep them all at bay,
Impossible completely to allay
Their fear of the dark, it’s on the grapevine:
Please don’t forget.
But their paint is running, their edges fray,
They know they will all succumb to decay,
A slow-crawling rot will undermine
Their foundations. The heaviest fine
Is inevitable – paintings must pay.
Please don’t forget.
