I learned the beauty of the human body
On Greco-Roman walls which craved approval from my father.
Now, I fear him seeing me in the woods, exposed.
I see the world through black and white squares
And my eyes are hardly circles anymore.
I set the tripod across the water and walk through, bare-footed
Imagining the feeling of damp bark clinging to my softest skin
Roots like hands, the most noble of greys.
My mind feels foggy
Like flour-coated floors, a smoke-filled room, a shadow
I am a part of paint-chipped walls and the elegance of blurred motion.
I am a part of this tree by the water.
I'm sad, but I like it that way.
It's in the water I remember
That I am an angel
And that words have little meaning in the afterlife.
This river whispers to me about death
And the prospects of white sheets and polka dot dresses.
It reminds me that skin is just skin
Pinned and bound, it will be skin just the same on a dusty floor.
I'm still terrified of demons in empty hallways
And naked girls in bathrooms.
I suppose one day you'll find me
Hidden in a bathtub, hanging from a doorframe.
Or maybe you'll find me like this
The roots of a tree by the riverside
I suppose my arms will be taut, my mouth soft
Sweetened with nothingness and Italian plums.