Francesca

My all time favorite photographer is Francesca Woodman. I think she was a beautiful young talented gifted artist. I've never responded more to images than hers. I'm sorry she took her life. A true loss. Just what came for her one day.

One day the neighbors abandoned 
all the windows, swallowing shoes, 
fingers, and I didn’t dream. 
The seamen with leather faces 
pull women’s bodies from shore, 
my mother’s waxen head floating 
like an eye. That beautiful 
suffocation. I am forever chasing 
the woman in the wallpaper, 
aching to brush her gray, knotted 
hair. In my jeans pockets errant 
objects rattle. Black-room 
ballerinas, dirty girls. Puppet 
girls. Butter knives and broken 
light bulbs. They form poltergeists 
and scream at the top of their 
lungs. I pull from the fountain 
lost cameos and puzzle pieces. 
We are all fishing hooks and 
antique pill cases. How the longing 
to carve it into beautiful words 
was equal to the hunger. Holding 
hands by our pinkies, we were all
lost children sneaking like worms 
through the mirror-land.