Self Portrait as a Still Life.
I'll be the robin's-egg blue
pitcher in my mother's pantry ––
Where I would search for silver
and linens on fine Sundays.
Or, given the choice, a pink peony
flush with a whorl of nowness.
I'll speak to you boldly with my hues:
titanium white, quinacridone rose.
One hundred petals of a story ––
each ruffled and veined,
Leading to my egg-yolk
center of golden occasions.
Cup me in your hands, bury
your face in my perfumed core
Where the colors congregate
before fading at the edges.
Set me in the blue pitcher,
let the right light catch.
February 1st, 2020 - from Issue No. 4 - Summer 2018.
Photography by Emily Fishman