Giacometti in a Fridge
10 a.m.
the door is opened.
I step into the gallery.
I feel the air of fridge –
immaculate, intact.
Figures are standing
in this clear atmosphere.
They are thin, almost
emaciated
but still solid
like trees.
I stare at these people,
wondering
how they could cope with this chill
and silence
after visitors disappeared
last evening
and how they could wait
until this morning
when our body temperature
reheats
their space.
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