I often forget
The mirror isn’t camera
There’s a hacker under the lenses
Of my corneas
Shooting me paralysed and pickled in snapshots
Of someone else’s desire,
My own skin rendered a suit
I’d rather crawl free of like pupa.
There are a lot of things that send my vision spinning:
And the screamingly obvious ways we’ve gagged their honesty.
Men’s eyes catcalling behind their lids
How can a look be so loud
And the subject so silent?
When did we forget to look quietly?
Catch the softness of an afternoon in the garden
The unspoken amongst the leaves
The bare tangibility of an unmade face in the morning