Aria

by Taylor Portela

 

this trifle of faces is the foundation  
for my dreams streaked by muddy nudes and jewel tones

alternating with prints in pink and blue  
staining downwards the monochrome pieces of cloth  

down where they soak up anything they can get 

if it existed this retrospective arrangement  
if it weren’t for the sediment of fresh faces 
still juicy with pigment and glue 
still thick with house beats and sweat  
full of the fantasy you can disavow time  

the individual layers hint at the importance of being extra 

of sebum and
but fall short with their unmeasured polka-dots  grime I commemorate this transformation

of who I am to be with who I am no longer 
as if anything could be wiped entirely clean 

only together can you trace the way I bleed