The Silk Face~

Dainty hands

wing beads diffuse the  morning dew

juxtaposed between the aroma and the mud

a  face is cut from a tree branch in the orchard of duperie d'individu

miroir de main

dipped

in dazzled water

ripping her waves to liquid ribbons

against an aquarium wrapped in cellophane

sunfish

giving birth through a thousand layered rainbow

the promise of a demitasse filled

with  bold days;

her paintbrush is made of rib bones

and horsehair

her skills

well

Michelangelo would eat her alive

and press a masterpiece from her inscribed pores

 

Dainty hands

caress silk

from the fault lines of her clay

a cat crouched in the black velvet line of her art

at the corners of a striking glance;

if looks could kill

she’d never look in a reflective surface again

 

Medusa

reduced her

a kabuki fan of a girl

in ripples women scorned

for the flat lines of a Shiseido counter

where grace

is amazing

and how sweet the bleeding sound

dripping from the fingertips

of airbrushed claws

 

Tip

and tap

the sap flows

the image grows

the silk face falls to the ground

speaking to  hands in coy Braille

“Oh my sold glam aglow, where for areth though go sees, go!”

 

“Mirror Mirror, silk and frail

hold the story of my face.”

 

 

At the end of the day

every woman has a face

no one

else

will ever see

 

 

copyright:2011vssmd/amusemusepress

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Author's Note

duperie d'individu= self deceit
miroir de main=hand mirror
go see= the insane rush of model things through the streets to get to their appointments on time in hopes of being booked for a shoot~

Reviews

[Lachenille Papillion]

Culled from the imagery of style, in the dualities of dualities, from every word a multitude of meanings. Dainty alone deflowered so many layers of a woman, from child to softness to refined to elegance to grace, etc. I've read it aloud, in my head, in a whisper, and each time a visual display within my mind created a new, touching upon an abundance of soul states. Your staples of myth foundations are the music that plays eternally in the back drop of your every poetic line, and here laces the patterns together with invisible stitches. One woman, a million layers, self perceived, self deceived, culturally culled, civility sculpted, politically molded, patriarchal manipulation, karmic exploration. does she do it because she's taught to? does she do it because she wants to? is she who she is? who she wants to be? who they say she should be? Giving what is needed? Giving what is asked for? Giving what's expected of her? Giving before it can be taken? Giving to be rid of the weight of it all? Does she even show herself the image of her true face? so many questions, so many feelings, stirred here between black onyx meeting white light, and the answers lie forever in the shades of gray the melding of your words bare...
Only you~ and I mean those two words in the deepest of all human elements~ can decipher woman, as if the very blood within the vein that knows the intimacy of such life.
I've said it before, and I will always say it, you should be required reading for every young female that breathes~

[AHKMEL PHAROD]

As I am finding my mind intrigued by your review of my piece "Their Own Line", I can't help but share how refreshing it is to read your words which takes me away from the plain and stubborn. This piece is very graphically detail and arranged perfectly. I loved the painting reference especially because I am also an artist. I was picturing as I was reading, a woman creating an impressionistic masterpiece. ONE WORD - AWESOME!

[HeIsWe]

kewl

[Branch Isole]

Superb style with elucidating content makes this piece equisitely penned.

[Sethnicity]

Vanity is frail.

[Aidz]

As always a treasure to read Selene, immediately I fell below the distractive layers adorning the suface coated in a mosaic of confusion and subterfuge, well below laid the true soul of this write....... seeing beyond the reflection

[Beautifully Tragic xPoe..]

Wow this is an amazing piece of writing. I loved the imagery and flow. Very imaginative. I admire this. Beautifully written!

[Doug Ordunio]

At least it is different, daring and imaginative!

[Gabrielle]

Incredible poem. This reminds me of Adrienne Rich's works. I wish I could write something so profound, it makes me contemplate the masks people have- the faces we don't show others, our secrets and the beauty in the ugliness.

[Jūdan FyreHeart]

A tale of beauty, unseen, ripped, torn and dropped. A powerful woman, stooping to the use of temporary moments, beautiful as always.

[arbitrary jane]

what i adore and envy so much in your work are all the unexpectedly perfect marriages of phrase and imagery.
case in point:

'the promise of a demitasse filled

with bold days;

her paintbrush is made of rib bones

and horsehair'

to linger here a minute for a close reading- the bold days ... yet only enough to fill a demitasse... so telling.
and the tools of her art cost some being(s) its (their) life(lives)... and the raw, 'ill-kill-for-it-and-cobble-together-what-i-need-out-of-the-broken-pieces-around-me spirit that image conveys...

stunning.