delicacy
this body is not intimacy, it
is a curation without context,
and you cannot take what you did not create.
seeing is an instant– behind the frame
lie the scrawls of ages, the abandoned
attempts, the bristle-strokes of wire brushes.
one glance at a domino mask does
not presuppose that there is not a heart
to break, a vacancy to settle in.
you tilt the glass and take that as the taste
of the chianti before it reaches
your mouth. this body is a meniscus:
an image, a single word, a small death,
and it only bleeds beneath the surface.
22.04.2022
