The Caged Artist

[miyako73]

The absence of green
is my narrow landscape
inside the dim cold room
of unpainted concrete
secured with a padlock
and rusting iron bars.

The unknown portrait
I see on the dusty wall
and I step on the floor
is black and purple blue
on days when I shut
my eyes to remember.

I am my own artwork
naked and unwashed
and exposed on the bed
of feces and dry urine
no perfume can mask
and no linen can cover.

[virtuoso]

A really nice attempt at painting a picture of an outcast's hovel. One line in the poem is not congruent. The line "and I step on the floor" does not mesh with "is black and purple blue". I have a suggestion. You could say, "my reflection on the floor". That would sync with "is black and purple blue". I enjoyed reading your poem.

[YesNo]

Usually those in a cage have caretakers who clean out the cage and provide fresh food otherwise they would be in the wild. It seems like the caretaker in this poem has gone on a vacation.