Accidental

There is a hole in the wallpaper
like a flaky crust
and I am the fatal typo in a poem
a malfunction in the wormhole
a collection of cells that slipped past the curator
and became art
simply because I was around it
even though I was just a shoe left on the floor
a notch in the wallpaper that wasn't supposed to be there
but someone decided to frame
And perhaps one day, you'll be passing by
Moving from painting to sculpture
with the depth and strength of water
and the poise of the sea
And you, accustomed to your Picasso and DaVinci
but with a heart string for avante garde
will see me and think how poetically unusual I am
you may even stop and stare
and this is the dream
for you to pass by the collection of cells that you disapproved of
that is now on the walls that you worship
and not recognize
Me
the accidental truth.

-anna sluder

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