lolaraysautogirl

We had to write a poem about a piece of art.  Here is the painting I did mine on (http://photos-c.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/hs745.ash1/163786_1833373237101_1323526939_2095450_1526169_a.jpg).  It's called I Knew Him Well and it is by Selina Fenech. And so I became Hamlet, assimilating his motives, adopting his language as my own, caressing dear Yorick's chapless skull. For long periods I only sat and thought – in great libraries, gothic gardens, at the edge of the world, even. My body, too, mimicked my prototype's.  A straight back, extravagant dress, a dark expression of plotting and anathema. Yet I could not embody him e

Look to the moon, my morning darling.  She has been named chaste; barren; virginal; an untouched goddess. But look closer, sweet.  Peer on her confectionary surface.  See there, and there, and there – a crater.  She is, perhaps, imperfect. Her marred flesh is too often overlooked by poets and lovers and mothers telling fairy tales.  Thus through the years, she was our dear one. We confessed our sins to her, professed our love by her, indulged in her, but never saw her for what she really was – a deception. O, yes; Satan's daughter has made fools of us all.

I realize now, my mistake. It should have occurred to me to mar you with my lips. Somewhere you could not hide it.  Perhaps then she would have seen that you belonged to me.  You would not have had to choose or leave one for the other (you left me, you know).  I could have kept you to myself.