Vol 5, Num 15 :: 2006.07.28 — 2006.09.08
She’s lifting wraps
from a basket of sweet linens,
imagining herself a Queen or a goddess,
not knowing the shadow
of a harlot’s mask
will crown her face.
Someday she will stand
at a roadside,
and deceive for her bloodline,
a bartered seal and cord
her only means
for redemption —
but for now,
let us leave her there
ensconced
in the folds
of the fabrics she’s chosen,
supposing her life,
turning and unraveling.
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