A poetic merging of skin, heritage and sexuality.

These freckles paint a story
Of a woman made of halves,
A pigmented emblem
On a eunuch drawn in curves.

Speckled asymmetric
By a crucifix and star.
Those fairy kisses favoured
The side that harbours art.

Turn towards the treetops
Where lines meet Semite curls,
And in the cave of Celtics
A dragon’s breath unfurls.

Rippling between storm and sun,
These rainbow lips cascade
Down a canvas dipped in oil and wax
Til they reach a darkened place.

Mounted in a sturdy frame
Where depth may never fit;
An embellished queen castrated,
Her artistry unlit.

© Lydia Rose