transition

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  • Emotional

    transition

    Michael looks through the camera sights
    towards twilight;
    One or two stars emerge from his flesh
    As he spreads out, like a girl, his long hair:
    He is trying to hide his male flesh.

    The language of twilight seeps from his flesh
    to my flesh:
    There’s mutation of birth, person, name.

    From his male flesh, Michael mines for the hidden breasts, vagina,
    all female desires.

    In the black coffee dark he touches me and says,
    “From now on I’m Victoria, I don’t know anyone called Michael.”

    I gaze through the camera at the soft flesh;
    I observe fear circling over Victoria,
    Assailed by the cheap jokes of men, their fun, their gags.

    Michael returns with the light of day;
    In his eyewater, there floats Victoria’s raped flesh.

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    If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.

    Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) American poet.

    papia’s Poems (2)

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    blind geometry 0
    transition 0