The close-up of our laundry, a twitch, here and there,
Unwanted, relieved. I cry out to the meagre sky and
Solidify my fists. I frame myself with crippled margins
And denunciate the anger in my chest. Hair engulfs the
Psyche, the eyeless pianist, an unsung plant, an unsettling
Release, highlighting the necklace you put around my neck
Like a leash, my sticky skin swallowing itself, turning to honey
And ash, uprooting itself, swollen and contained.
“Woman in blue dress” by József Rippl-Rónai (1861-1927)
Croque-Melpomene 