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Female bodies, other images and a loose narrative
Off the side of a dirt road, there is a tree
which two women walk past.
She is wearing a blouse
and hiding a small chain which
traces the rise of her breasts near the sternum
and slithers around the base of her neck
like an index finger made of tiny links.
The other woman is peeling an orange
and saving the rinds in a leather bound book.
The tree is filled with hands.
The orange woman bites her lower lip
and jumps out into traffic
but each of the cars have broken clutches
and broken brakes
so you would figure
that they aren’t being driven
and they aren’t
but they are still moving
at 5 miles per hour
and since it is barely uphill
the cars finally reach a point
where they stop
without rolling backwards.
One of the car doors open
and a pile of leaves falls out.
The necklace woman
climbs into a car
and opens the glove compartment
and finds a single torn out page
which is read to her because it is in English.
When the hands come out of the tree
there is no time for a reaction
so there is none.
The page bursts into flames but didn’t
mention anything of importance.
Then the tree loses its hands,
which fall to the ground
and change color over time
because it is autumn.
The third car is covered with lipstick marks
and every window is smashed.
Every slice of that orange has disappeared.
The necklace woman traces the footprints
and her inner thighs are sliding against the side view mirror
because she is not walking
but tracing with her eyes
the footprints of the missing orange woman.
Her lips make the shape of
a swimming red swan
then a red nesting swan
then a red swan that cleans itself
after being drenched with a shiny substance.
There is glass, orange peels and leaves
all over the road.
Tomorrow morning it will be cleaned up by someone who loves the clear life.
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