Sunday, June 7, 2015

You can see right though that dress.
A filmy peach like candle wax, but 
loose, but shiny, like a glazed donut. 
And everything behind the dress 
appears just as pale also with a gleam. 
I have had the dress a very long time 
but have only worn it once. The occasion
now forgotten because in that dress I am 
absorbed with me and with the dress. Distracted 
completely by the feeling of being hidden but also 
being visible--but softly visible. Pencilled in.
If I crossed my leg, you might have thought 
something under the dress was winged 
and had just fluttered. 
Everyday movements all seemed grander,
evoked a desert wind. 
In the dress, I became a phantom, a past self
climbing steps to a platform to accept 
a crown or an award or something else