• larabourdin

Sleight of the hand

Sleight of his hand 

Small of my back 

Sleight of his hand 

What's beneath

 

Sleight of his eyes

Knot of my legs

Sleight of his eyes

This feels cheap


Sleight of his words

Into my ears

Sleight of his words 

I can’t speak


Sleight of his palm

Length of my thigh

Sleight of his palm

I can't breathe


Four sleights

Six months

Eight

White

Vested

Sleeves


So when sleight of the finger

Punctures my womb

That sleight of the finger 

Is a slight to my whole

It's a slight to me

I will speak

Mark Rothko, Untitled, 1961

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