The Artist

(c) 2004 Aire Celeste Norell

God see us all at once from the top in profile out through our ribs knows which foot is larger the color of our skin in rose light the depth of our future wrinkles chooses among us which one to rent for the hour whose hands promise the best frontal massage ignores our itchy crotches is amused by our boredom gave us these masks these posable blocks for flesh we sit innumerable times praying for the painting’s completion there is no God