I used to bathe in PVA
to hold myself together,
falsifying
the striptease of confession,
revelation,
forging a synthetic skin
to let people under, tear
asunder, take
a piece and frame it
like a rubbing of a leaf
or gravestone,
lock it in a locket,
gild your open heart.
One childish summer, I
stood on a street corner
with a friend, de-winged
ants knee deep, picking at her
sunburnt shoulders, peeling
her away, leaves to the wind
like a flowerbud
or christmas present,
trying to find her
angel wings
halfway between shoulder
blades and tissue paper
skin, volant as powder down.
Some precious things
are best left veiled.
Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 10:03 PM UTC
I used to bathe in PVA
to hold myself together,
falsifying
the striptease of confession,
revelation,
forging a synthetic skin
to let people under, tear
asunder, take
a piece and frame it
like a rubbing of a leaf
or gravestone,
lock it in a locket,
gild your open heart.
One childish summer, I
stood on a street corner
with a friend, de-winged
ants knee deep, picking at her
sunburnt shoulders, peeling
her away, leaves to the wind
like a flowerbud
or christmas present,
trying to find her
angel wings
halfway between shoulder
blades and tissue paper
skin, volant as powder down.
Some precious things
are best left veiled.
