Jacqueline collier

Written in 2022/DEC

It was a waste, a secret place
A floor with no foundation
A tunnel chased, drink poison laced
A hunger for insation

I failed at every
Camera shutter
A portrait
For the haunted
And no one had
The strength to wonder
Would I ever forfeit

It was a waste, a secret place
I clung to deprivation
I had no face, I left no trace
A promise of reduction

I failed at every
Camera shutter
A portrait
Of the haunted
I didn’t have
The strength to wonder
Could I ever forfeit

It was a waste, a secret place
A corporal infestation
But by some grace a fine white lace
Held me in consecration

A heart emptied of trespassing
The following, untethering
Devotion to those clever things
Of intellects that perish
(you heard it from the heretics)