Switched-on Gutenberg Issue 16
Putting on a Cardigan at Midnight

Taking a walk on the fourth of February
in a black shirt and cardigan,
I no longer wish to die,
to watch cardinals painted blue
fly above Lake Michigan. Itís versatile,
but everything is thatís beige:
the dream I believe my brotherís
having, the walk Iím taking, both
interspersing the names and places
we recognize as afterlives as we might
recognize the people-less places
of Van Goghís paintings following
the loss of his ear. Only for the girl
with Starry Night over her head to stop
the rain would I disrobe. Sheís why
I put the last purchase in a safe,
why I never want to relive the decade
drawing my likeness in charcoal, folding
the sketch, pinning it to my lapel, and
setting itself on fire. For a year following
this each boredom killing kiss pulled skin
from the lips which went down
the throat like orange pulp.
How restored by a cardigan a man feels,
forgetting how Van Gogh found communion
with the mentally ill at his lifeís end, forgetting
how sometimes he wanted to die.

Copyright 2010, Christopher Prewitt

Christopher Prewitt is a lifelong resident of Eastern Kentucky. A multiple time recipient of the Billie & Curtis Owens Award for Creative Writing, Prewitt has most recently published poetry in Inscape and Suss. He regularly does readings in Morehead, Kentucky.

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