Art Thief

Neal Bowers

All art defines itself
by what's left out:
the city in Gauguin's paradise,
corners in Henry Moore.

Think of Renoir's vase
filled with chrysanthemums,
how the room has disappeared,
the tabletop itself barely a suggestion.

My technique perfects such absences.
It's what astonishes:
the empty hook, the blank place
on the wall, the vacant pedestal.

I leave behind the plaque
to name the space,
the pure ideal you wanted
all along but didn't realize,

and lumber into darkness
with a load of imperfections
heavy on my back.
No need to thank me.