Haunted At The Blackman
http://www.artserieshotels.com.au/blackman/
Some smart hotel developers
confected a chain of ever-
so-smart city hotels for
Melbourne Sydney and elsewhere.
We’re at The Blackman, better
situated than The Olson, though
both are decorated, every floor,
with big blow-ups of their
more or less famous paintings.
Fancy meeting Blackman repros
everywhere you turn, elevators,
lobby, hallways, all rooms?
No avoiding them once you’re
in. Close up, some are pained
and haunting, spectres
of a sad person’s mind.
Not what a hotel needs.
Others are fey, nostalgic,
the old tea name, Bushells,
flakes off bright walls.
Who stays long enough
to learn to ignore them?
Blackman’s Alice pictures -
well-known in Australia
as Tenniel’s, I rather
think - carry some Carroll
haunted fancies well.
And white rabbits abound.
Parked out front, their
midget rental cars bear
Alice blow-ups larger
than their vehicle.
Or ride an Alice bike.
Not me, I sidle through
the winter side-street
to the wind-torn tram stop,
eager for town, its cheery
ignorance of the themed,
the calculated, the forlorn
Blackman girls skipping.
I’ve stayed far too long.
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