rituals of care
cellophane static cling to the shadow
of the form
graceless and desperate yearning
i am nothing except how i see myself
through another's eyes
what is beauty?
don't we all dream of committing suicide on live television?
the ultimate unattainable performance
eye candy for the ages
is that not beauty?
i'm not suicidal, but a girl can dream.
i'll take care of myself
even if i must do the prerequisite damage
a ritual under stark bathroom light
red beads glisten along red lines on ghostly skin
against matching frigid porcelain
i'll take care of myself
bactine bacitracin and bandage
zip up my red bag shut and i bathe in relief
this is a ritual of care.
i am ten months clean
it doesn't count when you fill the wound
with deep black ink
the pen hums as i direct its course
a ritual of precision and permanence
under warm light wash with green soap
wipe away the excess to reveal the image
and bandage with tegaderm
a new ritual of care.
my glasses are the wrong prescription
i am learning the meaning of beauty
through trial and error that stick together
as cellophane static clings to my form
a pull without adhesive
this body is a temple, desecrated
it's mine to sculpt and mine to ruin
chisel to some obscene specification
antiseptic and patch to heal a new form
i need to borrow your eyes
now look at what i have done and tell me
is this beauty? or body horror?
i don't know if there is a difference at all.
regardless,
this is a ritual of care.
(2023)