[171]

On Wearing Redress

I dreamed the tangled crush of silk in a fist along my thighs. The whole episode wore your face, the one I could never see because you liked the black blindfold best. Because you liked me face-down with my ass in the air. Because my hair fell from its binding to blind me at just the wrong moment. In the dream, I want to tell you no one’s ever choked on a crimson piece of fabric, but everyone’s watching, waiting to call me a liar through their own red gags. Love, you’re damn useless when you want to be. I once wore your handprints on the pale of my corpse, black and blue and red. Sex and death get all mixed up in my head, and whose fault is that, anyhow? Every time I wear this damn red dress, I want to set things right. But I always end up fingering myself through the fabric, afraid to go outside.

~

Back of the Envelope

Image taken with iPhone while working.
Words written at the Lair of All Creative Things.
Ears On music by M.
Time Taken six minutes.
Brain On ??? Aroo. It’s Sunday. Not much.

Advertisements
This entry was published on July 15, 2012 at 2:24 pm and is filed under July, Poems, Seattle, Self-Portraits. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: