jolie laide

jolie laide

I started this when I lived in Brooklyn and struggled for grace in a city that grants moments of beauty and ugliness breathtakingly close to one another. Now I live in a place where things are a different kind of ugly and the beauty is pedestrian. I struggle with that.


He tattooed my hands with flowers the night we met, and now he knows what is too foolish, too sentimental for me to admit, that I saved them, left and right exactly, where I would see them every day. I'll kiss my hand there where he marked me and remember how I love the word cleave, which means both itself and its opposite, both to cling and to sever.


Blogger Miscellanie said...

"A pure street, faintly littered
With bits and strokes of light,
Enters the long darkness
Where its parallels will meet."

5:32 AM  

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