ryan quinn flanagan | a strange, deformed beauty

A Strange, Deformed Beauty

He stumbled through the streets
of Paris
with a cane
and a top hat,
drunk and hunched over
after dinner with his mother,
describing himself
to passers by
(quite crudely)
as a little teapot
with a big
spout.

He was barely five feet tall
had a bulbous nose
and black teeth,
had broken both his legs
in adolescence
and grown up
in traction.

He’d even been electrocuted
(like Hemingway)
by some quack doctor
and liked to draw
horses.

He sold off many of his possessions
moved into a brothel
and contracted
syphilis.

In the evenings
he would drink absinthe
and draw the
dancers.

Then he would curl up
in the gutters
of Paris
and sleep there
like that,
with a strange, deformed
beauty.

Eventually
the bottle got the best of him
and he died.

His uncle
burned much of his work
but some still
remains.

It is quite expensive
and makes many other people
rich.