The Innisfree Poetry Journal
by Tim Youngs
What’s the name of the place where we were
happy to stroll through the streets hand-in-hand
with our son, occasionally lifting
him so he would swing in the air
childishly chanting a chant that survived
beyond when it should? Don’t go back there.
So, off we go by bus to Amstelveen
where looking round the Cobra Museum
you’ll say that the paintings on show there
by Appel, Jorn, Nieuwenhuijs, Corneille
are clearly by grown-ups practising
a notion of how children see and draw,
and not what children your age would do.
Do you remember? Your eye was true.
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