Distant, ashy, close to the edge,
I might lose you in the pauses.
Faded by the spotlight,
disguised in white paint.
Misshapen, lost to certainty,
you focus on the expanse
between touch and revulsion.
Illusion of stop-motion movements
the absence of catching breath,
a long drawn out suffering,
denial of the body’s quickness.
Minor redemption in beauty,
sly and maneuverable.
photo by: Eduardo Sciammarella
