Abstract Inscape On the Mesa
Birthed in scratches of white paint on deadly canvas,
Emerging from the womb-vessel of a faded sea
To face the barren inscape of my tenuous self.
The diaphragmic doorway only opens through infirmity;
Abstract sodomy on the mesa.
Tilting by the weight of my breasts, precariously
Above the plain – the welcome danger of oblivion.
Darkness is my safety and my fault.
Night on the mesa floats free – freedom is found in reflection,
But a sliver of a moon is yet too much.
My faded scream can only be heard by those who are bound.
Copyright © Ginna Wilkerson | Year Posted 2008
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