The Lady of Leser-Trélat
hangs above me
message
or bridge
muscular yet withered
in her yogic pose
a tatoo of bark and dirt
face hidden, history a riddle
whorls and spirals
blood and light sacs
aware of
but indifferent to
an uncompromising horizon
a painted lady, warped mirror
in which the flurry of dirt flecking my torso
appears ominous
I falter, neither fearless, nor indifferent
tender trunks of loved ones, dependant saplings
roots still in development
claim me indispensible to the future of their forest
the line between here, and gone
bridge or rubble
no simple brushstroke
( The sign of Leser-Trélat: a sudden eruption of skin lesions associated with advanced internal malignancy.)
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