Thirty Nine . . .
Photo by Karin
essential imperception
by Stormcat
dressed, made up to perfection
a thick knit
tube of finest black cashmere lined with stands of luxurious fur
slid
silently over arms,
from shoulders to knees
from shoulders to knees
a smooth
white ribbon of finest silk, round my neck, embellishes
enter, head held high with look of
superiority
never even
noticed it happening
until too
late and realized
that I, bound and led around,
had sold myself
into slavery
I read this as someone being a slave to excess or image or material things or status...nice surprise turn at the end...
ReplyDeleteI guess we've all sold our souls for some sort of demon. Mine is different than yours, I couldn't care less about attracting attention to myself.
ReplyDeleteExcellent poem.
<3