walking upwards
walking in spirals
up were crystal ladders-
-leading nowhere.
why walketh this doll
whenst she would fall
to what she will not
show were
she walked feeling
her hands bleeding
the uncertain cold of night
if she would fall or not
w-a-s-n-o-t-t-h-e-q-u-e-s-t-i-o-n
what lack of sight
did her feet incite
to answer without the question
perhaps myopia,
or the distorted reflection
of those crystal ladders
making images
to be
easily metamorphosed
it was a dream
of uncertain glory
that led this doll to
dance her story
perhaps a lie her eyes proposed
but you did not known
her eyes
mirrored the moon
her nocturnal dance
dissolved
into white paper
perhaps our doll
she looked too soon
let her perversions shape her
she can in ease cleanse her heart
in the lying white of paper
our doll’s heart polluted
with an incurable disease
which couldn’t be cleansed
without becoming
not a princes
a queen.
*****
Preferiría ser un gato. Todo sería mucho más fácil.
Preferiría ser un gato. Todo sería mucho más fácil.
