I read in the news
that up to a quarter of the
handprints in early cave paintings
came from children
and that, perhaps,
the oldest works of cave art
were a communal activity,
made by toddlers, not
a solitary male pursuit
and of course
because what do you do
with a child in a cave
when it’s cold
or when it’s hot
or when giant sloths
could come across your toddler
while you are cooking
because of course
the solitary male pursuits
were aligned with survival
because of course survival
was very much not a given
and art only feeds the soul
because of course women
don’t make art, or, forgive me,
don’t have time to make art
because of course we
still must keep children
from scribbling on the walls
because of-fucking-course
only a solitary male
would ever think otherwise
except
I was surprised
and thought otherwise
and I forgot
that women make art
and children are children
I forgot that of course
art only feeds the soul
and when survival is
very much not a given
choices must be made
when floods fill museums
and masterpieces burn
all that will be left
are smeared chalk drawings
on forgotten streets.
Andi Myles is a Washington DC area science writer by day, poet in the in between times. Her favorite space is the fine line between essay and poetry. Her work has appeared inTahoma Literary Review, Alligator Juniper, and Beyond Words, among others.