Skype Tear
Karine Leno Ancellin
Like the Matisse cut outs at the MoMa,
your immaterial face, an interface, as pieces of a puzzle, Your dried lips blowing a chapped kiss, Your black curls waving the impossibility to nest in your supple white. My heart stoops to the moment- the beats throbbing too loud for this pixelated slowness. The virtual frame has caught your eye, the gold hues of your iris shimmer shaded by your palm like lashes… In a flash, the dark iris magnified by a tear, A perfect human tear.… A tear enlarged so real it liquefies me, as I sit, in virtual, ecstasy. |