Everything reflects.
See the eye split
on the edge of swamp
water. See the black
iron breastplate’s liquid
glint, the umbrella
architecture of a bat’s
wet wing. Everything
fragments. See the skin’s
crepe etchings, the husk
of vermillion bedcovers.
See us twinned in acute
accents: a platinum band
binding our heads together
as we shear the difference
between microscope
and magnifying glass, as we
rise over nightshade
to uncover those who once
cowered like blanched skulls.
When we emerge from medieval
drapery, slipping out of our daytime
skin, we reveal
dried seed pods under our feet
as a silk slip floats like a blue jay
across the courtyard. Our faces tilt
toward bestial glow as I release
the scorpion from my mouth
into your gloved hand.
Doppelgänger Portrait

Portrait of Leonor Fini and Leonora Carrington in 1952.
