A dissociative fog of warmth
invited me in
I took your invitation
because you were beautiful, vulnerable –
an imitation of Botticelli’s Venus.
Degas’ ballerinas twirled the tips of your blonde hair
and chevreuils skied down your nose
as pheasants picked at your fine eyes.
Were those the animals you used to kill?
I can hardly remember now,
you’ve tainted my memory with unease.
Yet I remember the lure of the sunflowers,
the way the butterflies sat on them
and how you traced their full-figures across my cheeks.
The soft murmur of your fuchsia nails
kindled my nerves and put me to sleep –
c’etait les guilis-guilis.
I adored them as I adored you.
But now you no longer know how to
administer them or me.
You struggle to keep me filed
under the weight of your crystal paperweight
which stifles my loving breadth (or is it breath)?
I am sharp, rough at the edges
I am crisp, sour and tasty
I can fee and make you feel.
But my growing height
makes it difficult to sea past
the faults of your being.
I have to remember that you also are
a mortal, a human being.
You are not a shiny, scaly kaleidoscope.
For so long I believed you were –
the neon flashes that poured out of you
prevented me from seeing right in front of me.
Now I know –
The truth, the world, myself
And I can see that you were wrong
about who I was…who I am?
I’m not really sure
For I have morphed into you
or have I?
They all say we are carbon copies
of one another –
I don’t know if we are