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I will clothe myself
in the immortal
youthfulness of spring
and allow the shadows
to follow me around
without their
penumbral trains
getting in my way.
I will make vermilion dye
out of forgiveness so I
can paint over my humanity
and wear my flaws
like a Yuzen kimono.

I will let my God-given light
lend itself to the cause
for which you and your
passion wake up each morning
and share in the
brightness of your sun.
I will take a holiday
from my own inspiration
to visit yours, love you
into a state of compliance
and invite you over
to the artistry that my
freedom calls its home, where
we can borrow words from
each other and write poems
out of them.

With your permission
I will allow myself
to fall apart gracefully
in your hands. You can do
as you please with the pieces.
To your willful desire
I will present my body
as a bronze tool crafted
for your pleasure and aid,
exclusively for one
learned enough to wield it
as would a master.

I will take all the jagged
shards and rounded pebbles of
my choices and convictions,
my reasons for smiling and
the thoughts I use
to cope with fear and
unhappiness, all the prayer
beads of Tulasi wood and
terracotta trinkets
alibata-engraved with names
of all loveliness that
my old bruises and scars
have earned me, and compose
a mandala, or a mosaic
of so much beauty it will
make you fall in love
the first time you
lay your eyes on me.

“She Dreamt” by photographer Tommaso Nervegna


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