Act confident to become confident
And she struts and fucks and laughs
With her hands trembling on her hips
and leaves
the memory that's hard to call

but silver has preserved her white teeth
and solid shadow-blacked pupils,
has quelled her open dimensionality and
Behind it all lingers the tracings of terror

Foldered, there is a map of silent focus;
No intervals, and no acting.

04/15/2006

Author's Note: I quite like the first stanza of this poem, but realise that the rest needs a lot of revision. The idea behind the poem was that of pseudo-confidence being caught in a photograph of an event at which it had not been noticeable at the time. As such, any constructive criticism would be hugely appreciated, thanks.

Posted on 04/15/2006
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