The art of the soft monster

The painting didn’t feature a horse’s ass 

but it was draped beside the angels 

like a coat shed in the desert heat 

and the only thing hanging in the air 

was a wrong kind of holiness with dingy 

wings and shrill instruments. 

Looking again, the ass may be a high heel 

and my bifocals have betrayed me 

in a most amusing way.

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