Frames of the National Gallery

Ancient halls lined with older frames

Girdled with crimson wallpaper,

golden wood.

Look how they stare

These ancient people.

Look how they see you

the same today as you were years ago.

Reach out and refrain

from touching your hero’s strokes

Shielded by guard and glass.

These halls teem with aliens and lovers

These frames speak to some,

Inspiration for more.

Speak to me oil on canvas.

What are you saying all these years later?

What do you pronounce, figure in red?

Naked landscape, distorted person?

Is it possible humans have not changed

As formed, beautiful, as disturbing.

Boy aged 11, who did you become?

Silneus what do you think?

Has Cupid ceased his carnage?

Sit in everyone’s way,

until your paint has spoken.

Then move back

into your gallery world.