museums; peering at haring///
struck me,
socketpunch lines running running
because they know what happens if they
stop. heavenscreaming, raw mawr of hollering
for help, help from the stars, from the scars,
nothing gentle or soft about them, stark stabs
staggering into stagnancy. movietheater neons,
reflected, consumed, spit back out with zero remorse.
here, the primarycolor baby, the barking dog,
the unfinished self portrait of the artist sitting in the corner
smoking a cigarette, cokebottle glasses gleaming, so
antithetical to the middleschool highlighter figures
moving, moving, moving. like bacteria they move,
infectious infractions influenced by the disease
wracking those with a knack for backtracking, givebacking,
the needles in the haystack. and haring, that marvelous neon
man, took the glimmering coins of a generation, all that
loss and movement, light and sound, dark matter wasting
away in hospital rooms, sallow cheeks turning yellow,
no one knowing why why why
a generation’s loss and joy and victory and loss loss loss
rendered in paint, bright.
Odelia Fried is a student, slam poet, writer, and actor based in NYC. Her poetry has been published in Cleaver Magazine, Melancholy Hyperbole, Lavender Review, and other literary magazines. She performs her slam poetry at UrbanWordNYC as well as open mics in NYC. Her passions include femininity, Judaism, and teenagehood, and the intersections between the three.
