Slowly she becomes the air
Even the teetering heels don’t help her tall
She isn’t really there

Her fingernails were the first to disappear
Only noticed once vanished, old slicks of the noble
Slowly she becomes the air

Her skin absorbs cruel words, and fair
Her layers seem; her clothes pile in the hall
She is naked there

She is stripped down, her vellum hair
Unfurls in beauty and breaks from the whole
And she becomes the air

Legs wrapped around cloud: her death-smother
There’s no reason he should breathe now
As if she were really there

She never asked for substitution-fathers
She leaves flakes of varnish in every vestibule
Slowly she becomes the air
Until she isn’t really there


06.20.01