linens of Caravaggio

She lives beyond the craft of skin:distilled

of air and cellular addictions soaked skinless

between mouths-awhisper.

Kissed into the vanishing held wordless

to an origami sky wrapped of you and I

into linens of Caravaggio.

Seekers of her innocence her windows

shed us of afternoons, where, like a city

slow to heal we are gathered of her gaze

and drink her torrent of still . . .

March 23rd, 2011

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