Switched-on Gutenberg Issue 16
Assemblage
 
 
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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