The Greek statues
pale in the moonlight
(remembering their gaudily coloured days)
make their escape
from the Museum
(easier said than done
without arms or legs)
and find their way to
the High Street
where the fashion manikins
(they two devoid of clothes
& missing the odd limb)
have broken the glass
of their display
and high-tailed it away
with their bit of Greek antiquity.
The CCTV
not believing
what it sees.
Dónall Dempsey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/painting-the-town/
