Exhibition text, Robert Anthony O'Halloran at Dupont Public Storage, 2016

containers are too large for their contents—
this time, closer

a body translated to sugar cane raised to
temperatures fit for welding, burnt and wet
on clothes and tools, weeping hard,

your self as a child = your true love

a mass the weight of your dread

a new opportunity to throw away a pair of underwear,
a sigh, a down jacket,
a painted problem, difficulty remembering

a pained moan, you jerk your head away and
make a strong, short sound to meet your stale guilt in private:
a weird smile follows — you walk to a mirror to see it
and it looks worse than you imagined

160 lbs of lead loaded back into the rental vehicle

the day finishes and everyone there feels ok
about how things went with everyone today

padded palm to invitations that remind you of things you can’t have,
or don’t (having chosen);
turning the other cheek, but
not knowing how to tell an old story anymore, because your voice has changed
or the temperature or you don’t smoke anymore or