Iridescent and belonging to all the light
of the constellations,
This was how she used to be –
a luminescent contrast to the greytones.
But there are chemicals taking her now
capturing the luster of youth and
coating her body with a blankness:
A canvas untouched,
or since faded.
Her mother remembers her as a flame
There’s nothing wrong with being still
she tells herself,
But she remembers when her girl would leap
with all the energy of the sun.
There is heaviness layered behind
pale green eyes
That sprung up somewhere between
test tubes and CAT scans and negative results.
She can’t fix this. No one is fixing this.
There is a fault in the framework –
they’ve found the problem but not the answers
So what’s the point in all the dim rooms and
holding tight to words like ‘hope’
if everything perfect fucking dies?
S.
{Photo: Jacob Sutton Photography}
