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I know it’s still there
by Jamie Siegel
Even though no one has spoken of it since the first day we’ve met, I know it’s still there.
It’s there under the pallor that I use to distract me
as the folds of your dewy skin contour a formless shape
It’s there under the milky white ends of your pale blue eyes
as they gaze at the phallic artwork mounted in your living room
It’s there under the edges of gold-leaf descending down the butterfly roof of your apartment building
as the sun illuminates my goodbye card buried underneath the sycamore tree
In Hancock Park, in Eagle Rock, in Atwater Village, in Santa Monica
Malibu, Glendale, Beverly Hills
everywhere you have lived It’s there under surveillance, someone is watching it disintegrate
slowly. With pleasure.
It’s there under the nerve endings in his foreskin
It’s there under the focus of his camera lens
It’s scrawled underneath my name in his high school yearbook
And under the blood oozing from the nose of the illiterate vagrant
Slumped on the corner of Beverly & La Brea
I thought it was underneath the naked crepe paper at Christmas time
I arose early in the hope of neatly wrapped presents under the soon to be discarded needles
the mist that sprays off the peel as you tear open the skin to get to the ripe fruit
old-fashioned pumpkin spice cookies & children sleeping soundly in the afterglow of your fireplace.
Even though no one has spoken of it since the first day we’ve met, I know it’s still there
It’s even dancing underneath each letter of this poem, swaying with each beat of this lovely rhythm
Can you see it?? I know it’s still there.
Jamie Siegel is a writer, poet, and long-time staff member of Painted Brain. Her poetry appears here in Painted Brain News.