Night can be mysterious and dark.
So dark a black alley cat can drift by,
As dreams in a dreamless sleep might.
A thief with scissored hands,
Can make a floppy rent in the chain
link security fence and enter
Art Gallery land.
Infra-red sensored cctv,
Can be looking far away
when the ladder is lifted from the roof rack
of the careless maintenance van.
Around the corner and in full view,
Of the public that can be in the queue
Monday to Friday ten ‘till two.
No active cameras here for him to care
about being seen.
Against the wall the ladder can become
the hypotenuse for him to railway track it
to a window station on the up line.
A window, a fused silica gateway
now lightly obscured with time-lapsed grime
can be scored, tapped and ventilated in part;
and a bypass can be inserted from contact to contact
to maintain unbroken voltage flow.
The catch can swing inwards,
like a railway crossing gate.
The sash can rise as the sun will do
in three hours time and access
for the thief is gained.
Lifeless, hanging, swatches
of mixed oil blotches of Jonquil wheat,
Interspersed with smudges,
Supposedly cornflower blue:
Maybe next time van Gogh
paints this he can get it true?
The Stanley knife blade can emerge,
Like penile projection from its sheath.
It can thrust into the painting with ignoble lust:
Violated virginity.
Then to slide around the edges.
Rolled and tubed and like the thief it can be gone.
On the ladder track on the down line.
Legs can take them to the Underground.
V1
Duck!
Hovering Hawk.
Wait!
For glaring error to de-conflagrate.
Train on tracks on the hypotenuse,
Black gold grit adjacent
to opposite red brick netted
by sand lime rules.
Flat, fused silica,
Time lapsed grime,
Gone, to statistics of crime.
Left hanging, Jonquil yes but
Cornflowers where?
Double trapped by gilt edges
and canvas bind.
Released but trapped again
in tube train flown.
[I think I have found out you don't do very obscure -and V1 is so obscure. Almost as bad as Plath.]
J.
