Unlike a rattling dancer, only
a quiet sometimes clicking.Unlike a hairshirt, it's small, cool, smooth
pleasure. I have sewn the fisheye buttons
inside my clothes. A supplemental
plastic particular skin.
Batting and squinting their small
two-eyed one-eyes,
rubbing me and watching me,
one and many, like the Trinity.
The body politic. The fiery vagina in the sky
turning its gaze to me. Seeing through me through each
pair of beady eyes inside a pair of smooth lips inside
a ring. I am a slave.
Only in darkness
do I gaze back,
rub my cheeks to them,
ply my threaded needle blindly,
pierce the fabric, skin, and hole of air.
4 comments:
This really grabs me. Nice opening. And nice closing. The middle ain't bad neither.
The second line throws me. I keep rereading it, trying to figure it out. I don't know why I'm having such a hard time understanding it.
Also have a hard time with the 'fiery vagina in the sky'--what is that? Takes me out of the poem completely.
There is a lot here I do like, though. Just want to stay in the poem all the way.
The fiery vagina I didn't mind. But, like M, I was having trouble with the second line.
Although I have to admit that I'm not sure what a fisheye is, I was immediately and completely immersed in the world of the poem.
Okay, I just googled 'fisheye buttons' and I now I see...everything. (Still, "quiet sometimes clicking" is problematic.)
Really liked 'two-eyed one-eyes' and 'pair of beady eyes inside a pair of smooth lips.' Like Ariel, I had to look up fisheye buttons, then found they were these tiny familiar things that you've made to seem very strange! (in a good way)
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