after Dali, with thanks to Mary Jo Bang
The camera never lies so when
you see me spread out
in the corner,
my arm an invitation to
oblivion, surely I am what I seem.
I am lying here.
(¿en una cama?)
I am not.
I took the missionary position
and the sepia wonder of the brothel
faded into the gray scale slipping me
entre las fronteras negras and white skin.
I am lying.
(do I mean miento?)
English is handily oscuro like that.
Your ears surround me like fireflies
and I am obscured by the dark
la sombra de una fotografia sin
flash.
I am (miento, siempre)
not.
My eyelashes rest against
my cheeks and then my eyelids
split open and stare at the point
just beyond your temple. Nunca en
suyos.
I am
lying.
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