The Imitation
An artwork bought from an online store
Somewhere in America.
Sits on my bookshelf surrounded by glass-guarded wood,
A cheap frame.
One copy of an oil painting printed on print paper,
Imitating someone’s childhood.
Its eyes closed and face sullenly greeting us
When passing by.
Slyly hidden frown on angled pout showing
Nothing in particular.
With black eyes, teal cheeks, and drowsy hair she
Holds back tears.
Displayed near the front, setting the sombre tone
For our talks.
You don’t like it I know. Wish it was taken down
You always say.
It’s a demon child, an unholy bastard, only
Painful memories remain.
A grand irony, a somewhat contradictory sentiment
Coming from you.
A plan proposed, for us both I know and so this creates
Our only solution.
In honour of you, from March till June, the picture will now be
Removed from view.
Giuseppe Gillespie – October 2021
The poem is ultimately a combo of:
Somewhere in America, a cheap frame, imitating someone’s childhood. When passing by, nothing in particular, holds back tears. For our talks, you always say, painful memories remain. Coming from us, our only solution, removed from view.
An artwork bought from an online store sits on my bookshelf surrounded by glass guarded wood. One copy of an oil painting printed on print paper, its eyes closed and sullenly greeting us. Slyly hidden frown on angled pout showing with black eyes, teal cheeks, and drowsy hair she displayed near the front, setting the sombre tone. You don’t like it I know. Wish it was taken down. It’s a demon child, an unholy bastard, only a grand irony, a somewhat contradictory sentiment. A plan proposed, for us both I know and so this creates. In honour of you, from March till June, the picture will now be.
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Giuseppe Gillespie Writing 