Poems and Poetry

The Picture Framer | A Poem by Glen Wilson

The large print is starting to curl,
I’ve been putting it off all week.
The happy couple; bodies turned
towards each other, faces forward.

They picked out a mahoghany frame,
its not with current trends, a classic
that will age with them, keep their story
within one tenderly hung rectangle.

We used to smile like that. Now I know
where the planed wood joints meet
how the miter saw cuts. Portraits
don’t separate cleanly, they splinter

water marks tear through all the craft
of my once careful hands.


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