for Chris

I dreamt of you. That’s why I rang.
You were in trouble
With the doyens of the medical profession,
A dour lot, but powerful,
In our small large town.

Colleagues asked me, as if I knew,
“Is he alright?” That’s why they rang.
They stopped me in the street,
They whispered in my ear,
People I had not seen in years,

And I, great ignorant bumpkin,
Wondered, “What on earth?”
Until I learned, you had insulted their intelligence,
These eminent men of science,
Who could destroy you if they would,

Without qualm or reservation,
Ranged like Rembrandt’s starch-collared sawbones
Around a corpse. But it is you, my friend,
In the centre with your book,
Declaiming it’s virtues

As if they did not know their business better.
It’s not with awe they regard your performance,
They shrink back with disdain.
You hardly warrant disgust, you fool,
It’s your head upon the plate.

They have no humour, these men of stone.
I had to laugh, “No worries mate!”
I finally told them when I knew,
Our friend is safe, irreverence caps arrogance
Every time. I hardly dared admit

I saw the dream made prophecy,
Your reputation shattered, your fortune failed,
The word on the street, you’d gone to ground,
The looks I got in cafes, the looks away.
I am afraid. That’s why I rang.

22 Dec

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About Francesca Jurate Sasnaitis

Me = Francesca Jurate Kristina Sasnaitis... also known as Jūrytė/ Jūrytėle/ Jūračiuk/ Jurachook/ U-Russia/ Urata/ Rata/ Jay-bird/ Jay-peg/ Miss J/ Big J/ France/ Franca.... Sasna/ Fox/ Greville/ Knight... and Nerada Netis... as far as I can remember... oh, and there's still room for Kristina... somewhere, sometime... Me = drew, painted, made sculpture, then stopped; printed photographs, then stopped; wrote, then stopped; made furniture, then stopped; made prints, then stopped; became a bookseller and stopped; wrote some more, kept writing some... and more... started painting again... sold a few more books... stopped... wrote some more, kept writing some... and more... and now seeing words, writing images... was that last bit too wanky? What goes around comes around, I guess...
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