Yellowish grey hue of skin. Shore off in distance.
Fire in sky. Ominous married clouds.
Darkened waters genuflect to say prayers.
An asymmetric beauty sits.
(The Naked Woman — K.H.Ara)
Burrata in repose.
Swim the oily waters.
Ground pepper and salt flake alit.
Life rafts await like limo’s.
You, in service to me.
I, to you.
Let’s get married
And briefly visit God.
Awaken from the rogue evening.
It was then that this morning was hence.
Today is always tomorrow.
I see myself
Through another eye.
Charcoal? Ink?
What does it matter
That my blonde hair
Is twisted into a bun?
What does it matter
That my earlobes remain virgin
And never to be pierced?
What does it matter
That the black spaghetti strap of my camisole
Tried to run away?
I’m not in need,
Not in need,
Not in need
Of expiating
My body’s sin
Of presence.
A face can love a camera.
There is grace in the deadpan.
A lock of hair matted with Brylcream.
Angelic sheen on skin.
A face can love a camera.
Whitewater. Body that twists.
Paths of least resistance.
Ginger flows.
Shadow valley’s twixt ribs.
Opaque skin warmed by the sun..
River and copper
- Astrid Kallsen, model
