The Artwork: Surrender
The Poem: Moving the Flag
I said, yes I’ll do it.
Send me to move the flag.
I could already imagine
waving this message
of victorious certainty.
But I find myself stuck
halfway up a greased pole
the flag hanging limply
before the taunting sky.
Paranoid hands grip and struggle
searching for some trusted traction,
so much toil to gain an inch
and then lose it.
The birds are laughing.
No one said it would be easy
but this is a setup, I swear it.
My stubborn heart sweats and spits
gives up and starts again, again.
so it is, I’ll show you.
Finally, the flag is within reach
I swat at the fabric, it unfolds
clear eyes now see
white opening against the blue sky.