Posted in Almost Dorothy

A Body at Rest

Red Girl Red World | Photo by Neil de la FlorShe divides herself into four. Divides the body between what is and what will be her destiny when she lands upon the red red surface of the world.

She is divided by a white cross and her hands hold back the demands of demons and the devils clamoring for a ride on her human back as she holds them back with the force inherent in wings and breath.

She is breathing through the lungs of Atlas and tempts the sky with its heavy drunken logs. She is sad for red. Sad for sadness. Sad for the colorization of fear and the process of elimination.

She is almost consumed by red or is in the process of being consumed, yet she faces the camera with the fierce focus of an angel in situ floating frozen. In silence.

Instead of saying yea yea yea, she smiles through the red blob of light into the stage lights. Between the world of red on the left and on the right, she is mightier than sin and sometimes.

Between the frozen girl and floating girl, red is patient for a winner for sadness is a coat of red feathers coating the surface of the self and the anti self.

She detaches from the walls and the floor and positions her-selves into the space in between above and below. Between now and when.

The ultraviolet spectrum of light walks in and surrounds the red red world with its spectrum of ultraviolet light–it shadows the shadows of red consuming the brighter lights and bluebirds of the world.

Confident in her ability to fly or float or land or whatever it is happy humans do when they defy gravity, ultraviolet waits for her to decide her fate. Her body is a neologism for faith. Her cross is a cross.


I'm not real, but I'm a writer.

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