Everything Must Go

What happens when you let a bunch of artists loose in an abandoned shop. Farewell Bagpuss Window, it was good making your all-too-brief acquaintance.

The artists have taken over the dress shop

In a free-for-all extravaganza

They've piled the windows high with their creations:

Multi-faceted photographs, Bagpuss, horse's skull,

Where fashionistas preened and twirled

Before mirrors their jagged reflections,

Now brushes, chalks and pastels

Garment the soul.

Poets daub their letters, loud and proud

In shouting inks, tattoo the walls with words,

And on the floor we trace a labyrinth

To the dizzying boom of a gong.

Tomorrow, all of this shall be gone;

Step into the changing rooms and you'd see

Paint splinter and concrete crack

To dust; where fairytale thorns

Once nightshaded the windows

The stucco edifice comes crashing down,

As Beauty steps out, neon-painted

From the ashes, her face a mask

Of mirrors, and the sky opens itself

To multitude of stars

Reflecting herself back again.