Braille – a poem

a poem by Jeremy C Kester

I run my fingers over the smooth braille
Not knowing what sense it means
To be in a museum of art
Where the blind are neutered
From this aesthetic beauty.

Not tired
But worn just slightly I move
From gallery to gallery
From display to display
Sometimes quick, but always so laggard.

There is such beauty here
Even within the shit
That we call art
Crayon scribbled over canvas
Two left feet and a sink
Such idle attempts at creativity.

For more poetry, consider purchasing a copy of Jeremy’s collection: Change of Seasons: Selected Poems. Click the link to get yourself a copy in either print or for Kindle. (Currently exclusive with Amazon, however that will change at some point in the future.)

Poem written by Jeremy C Kester
©2021 Jeremy C Kester – All Rights Reserved

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