Some times
we keep
our fetishes
in the closet.
Sometimes
we wear
them out.
The usually con-
cealed placed
outside. Flesh
on fabric, as if
the clothing were
internal. & we
have nowhere else
to look except
away. Which means
at some point
we have already
looked inside
ourselves. Were
frightened off by
what we found there.
In this fromage to
Jacques Louis David
Magritte has
copied his portrait
of Madame Récamier
in intricate detail
right down to
the shy smile & the
burnished bronze
of the coffin handles.
The
sixteenth
of september
was like
any other
day until
a tree
rose be-
hind the
moon
as
night
fell.