when wry goes horribly awry

I tried to buy your silk-screen,
but mommy wanted milk:
I only needed glasses
'cause me lennies was feckin' fucked.

I squinted through the reckless lines
of inky greed on fabric.

It's easy to love the raining coppers,
but the patina takes too long.

I never studied physics
but I heard about the neutron:
I heard things other things, too.

I was a child soot painted
and crawling on mine skinned knees,
working through the shadowy nave,
hoping to find a candled altar
where that green-blue rust was true.

From your words and your words only,
I was able to struggle, fully hod,
into the crimson light of day.

Can a brother get a witness
and a bartered square of soap?

There are moments
and moments, again,
that call you home.

All art freezes time,
even the mostly easiest,
the shudder click of rhyme.