BEING

as the portrait of Löttö


I see you stare at me

more now, than before

for a long time, I thought

perhaps you had forgotten about me

I remember being born

from canvas and wood

parts that made me have made many others too

not until you combined me

I was made a thing

through the punching sounds of staples

wet coats of paint

I was made to be something to be created on

but was I not a creation already?

I am worn now

I don't know time

but the dust had slowly settled into the grain of my canvas

something had rubbed the paint off of me

when me and the other discarded things were looked through

every now and then

yet we were left to collect dust

until you picked me up again

you were different from the last time I saw you

taller

the warmth of your breath blew away some of the dust on me

your fingers grasping me and pulling me out of hiding

now i am in the light

most times

you play with me with a curiosity I don't remember

tracing my corners in charcoal