April 1, 2017 orangeq2017

handgun discourse on beauty before my mirror

sam sax


how terrible to say nothing

like an old woman undressing

—james l. white.


instruction:       first remove the bows,

the brooches, and gold pins.

all that gleaming ornamentation

that tells others this body

is still full of life.


interior:            to be just canvas again

skin impersonating a wrinkled suit.


girl you’re meat in a butcher’s window

girl you’ve got sneakers hanging across your tongue


instruction:       next the cloth

the zippers and buttons

unlocking in your hands

watch these fall to the floor

a head writhing with snakes.


interior:            to be just skin again

adorned in an orphanage of scars


girl you smell like a tea kettle moaning

girl let me hyphenate your birth name


instruction:       the wig is the last to go.

a hooked finger fit between scalp and sweat

freeing the skull like a birdhouse under

the weight of a polished steel shovel.


interior:            my bruises grow like ripe tomatoes

my shoes reveal a bed of dancing worms



it is always high noon in my bedroom

faced off before the mirror


the man looks nothing like me.

in my eyes i am a wrinkled old thing.


pistols naked at our waists

the clock strikes like a match

he aims at my neck.



girl i came here to paint your walls red

and you look best dressed in silence.

Tagged: , , , , , ,