A Portrait in Contemplation
Used With Permission
I’ve attempted to make up my mind:
to settle on one ideal above
a dozen practicalities…
but each thought slides away
which was, even now, on the tip of my tongue.
I am the seamstress of my misfortune:
the designer of this bespoke
my hands, the implements of chaos,
have woven an obtuse pattern of scales.
Even the Spring is unseasonable:
thorns are growing through
sharper than needles…
and self-healing is but another
way of unravelling my imprecise stitches.
A woman is ever conscious of her womb:
knows the possibilities birthed
by slippery carnality…
What constricts may not kill
but this sly smile hides my certain fangs.
Art FLASH! features the surreal art of Cat Scappach.