Watched
The cathedral burns and crumbles
in the sun.
Its papery walls make me dizzy
as they scrabble upwards.
The air is syrupy;
mosquitoes hang above the crowds
and cameras click.
Sweat under my thinnest dress
like another slippery skin,
your eyes flicking over me then
resting on my neck,
a heavy hand.
January 2000
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