First you’ll steal Picasso
to show your plastic surgeon
where you want your nose.
To celebrate, open thousand-dollar wine:
gold notes with caviar overtones.
Next you’ll return for “The Scream.”
The face your mother always said would stick.
The Met won’t notice
when you steal from storage.
Then you’ll start stealing colors. First blue, then green.
All museums grow hotter. You ban cell phones,
then talking. Everyone who enters
the museum is a minotaur. They find
themselves inside the frames.
Abigail Welhouse is the author of Bad Baby (dancing girl press), Too Many Humans of New York (Bottlecap Press), and Memento Mori (a poem/comic collaboration with Evan Johnston). Her writing has been published in The Toast, The Billfold, Ghost Ocean Magazine, Yes Poetry, and elsewhere. Subscribe to her Secret Poems at tinyletter.com/welhouse