Aus-Art

Flesh, flesh, Such wasted flesh... This able-bodied meat. Defiled by drugs and impurities. A mind born with clarity, Yet so blatantly abused. No harm did you suffer; Other than harm self inflicted. Disregarding the hopeless gazes, Of those who were born without. No good, no good; This I cannot abide... I shall take this flesh from you, And it shall be tended and made anew. A gift to those who are deserving, Of the very gifts you cast aside... Now then, my dear, Do stop your screaming. It will only be painful, Until your heart stops beating. - Word of Chen, 1/6/2016

To the moulting orchids on my kitchen counter: Please know I picked you out specially. I said once it seems odd to buy flowers for a man. He asked why. I didn’t have an answer, so this Valentine’s I went to the floral section in the IGA downstairs. There was one plant in a red-and-gold pot left from the Chinese New Year, and lots of pastels, but you spoke to me. Five stems, a five-finger rainbow. Pink, pale orange, blue-purple, red-yellow, and neon green. You remind me of the socks he wears to his office job on the sixteenth floor. He’s built like that building, tall enough the socks show under his cuffs. To me, orchids