I shoot the
girls and fuck the boys ‒ my world
is bounded
by ten thousand two-inch squares
of
plasticated metaphor that share
their
secrets slowly. Days and hours swirl
into my
throat ‒ they choke me ‒ fingers curl
then stroke
me. All the tree-bark shrouds I wear
are
stripped away to leave me standing bare ‒
just naked,
save for flowers, save for pearls.
I hide in
plain sight, hunt with mirrors, while
the cold
ash blankets memories of another;
the fire
casts a shadow on my smile ‒
thighs
spread, waiting for a faithless lover.
The
sidewalk seems so very far below ‒
roll VTR,
it’s time for me to go.
RJT
House #4 - Francesca Woodman
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