Scattered Canvas

Paintings wedged 

in cracks,

hidden under

tables and chairs.

Faces that haven’t

been met with

eyes since 

my own declared

them ugly, trash 

no good.

And as I lay

here now thinking

of all these canvases

I’ve covered, 

I feel a shame?

a sadness?

an emptiness?

for painting faces

that will only

see the grain

of the hardwood

floors.

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