I never leave my house without this cloak
of invisibility
with your name on it

It keeps my fingers off
any altars of mimicry
when I look in through the window
and gasp above the crevices
that have grown during your winter

The shape of water is not what it used to be
yet here I remain standing
- a Pink Lady bitten to the core
stuck in a doorway talking to Janus Bifrons
- as above him so below me

I don’t have a voice
or a scream
but these words keep sprouting from my thigh
and lying in between

**********
I dress to impress
- I put on my words
from my ankle to my knee
and then I stick out my hand
- not my neck
half-naked
in order to feed my phantasy
- a body speaking a language of its own
for which I cannot connect the dots
or name constellations yet

Yes, I am walking in my sleep
and dreaming while I take my strolls
I would flâneur my life away with my eyes closed