The Gallery Wall

In the gallery, the men are naked

Fleshy in a stark brown world

Outlines of forest, bodies, raking the eye

There are objects, too, to tease

Metal waves and flying houses

Languid, pouty recumbent women

And politics: capitalism and socialism

Writ bold and screaming, angular.

An artist at work, to test our minds

To remind us we are weak

That we are but flesh and ideas

Pinned down by convention, that

We want to step in to the picture

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