I am, the teacher says, just softness,
Hardness, dark and light.
My arm just happens to turn
Into the ladder. The skeleton behind me
Climbs the ladder as I dream in rapture.
The students draw knives
Inside my empty fist. I wear a feather
Mask and crouch. The students
Make me abstract when they wish.
I thank them for it, as it saves me
Pain. The teacher makes me
Lean against the ladder, looking
For an hour in the mirror, my worst fear.
I shake and sweat. My mouth takes
On a sneer that will not leave.
I spot with red. Skeletons
Turn gory, my face moves like lava,
Monsters in my pupils
Graze my lashes. My ugliness
Collapses out of art.
Their drawings make me beautiful
This time.
