Artwork

I placed my paintings

On the floor of my apartment

So that my friends – comrades –

Would walk over my creations

Scuffing the filth of the street

Into the cracking oil

And then, bending down

Peering into the torn fabric

They would see a familiar image

Their own distorted faces

Smiling from a photograph

Pixellated on screens, translated

Into paint

Transplanted

From their Bohemian afternoons

Trapped

Beneath their own soiled feet.

© Copyright David Marriott  all rights reserved­.