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

And me.

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.