Alchemisland

Sitting for courtly portraits

Hours unmoving, some find torturous

I slink off, go somewhere else, you see

Escape through a portal into outer Me

Gateless, without palisades

No corners, shapes or names

Where elephants, grapes, bridges, hadrosaurs and regretted days

Are each one and one the same;

A place where is and is not shame

Where immortal am for Mayfly day

Shortly came return calls, come through

The perfect moment aborted in lieu.

The late train which claimed due the last quarter hour

Came and went the second I left for the loo, what a shower.

Were you snoozing? He chortles

I feel woozy

Epileptic things return to former steadiness

The portrait painter bites his lip in readiness

Trepidation, relief at my clear elation

None of my sloughing written

Nor hinted that deprivation my flesh conveys, strained and striated

Like a cross section of some ancient place, medieval chapel to lith grave.

I thank him, admitting the likeness awesome

But halt his glee with tones of caution

His face grave, as of one frequently stalked

Seeing the familiar face of their follower as they walk

Though artists tend to balk suggestion

I do not hesitate to mention

That frankly size matters; importance of dimension.

He opts to further obfuscate my facade’s declension,

And with the speed of one threatened with eating by torch

Increases the correct proportions, I don’t mean made me tall.