deCordova

I used to be an institution

Mothers used to bring their children, point at my twin hearts and say

"Look how it's made of different pieces. Do you see the glove?

The tin can?

The ax embedded in it's center?"

Teenagers used to scavenge for sticks and make music

On the pipes in the garden

Teenagers used to sit under the willow trees

And get kissed

Art students stood in the halls

They pretended they understood Magritte

Now my exhibits lie in boxes

Discarded with the love they used to own