[objet d’art: exhibition of beauty in art loft victorian claw tub]

he found her, guttered, fish- hook positioned. palsied arms
squeezing
mottled fishtail he thought almost fetal. febrile she felt his face
eclipsed sun his halo at best. joyless, cradled old faerie tale,
this halfdead
thing little foundling. but city rain gutters’ unspeakable odors,
her hair matted nest of gems and dying creatures. he wrapped her
in newspaper he brought her home traced spider veins’ routes
where
needles went in islands of abscess where flesh refused to mend
itself.
he suspected she had no navel. he put his hand there to find
what else
she lacked.

she has no memory now, the order in which events transpired:
deposit
specimen laid porcelain bed iodine smarting contusions expensive
soles clicking waxed hardwood renovated rocksalt bathwater
proportions tested flashbulb popping ceaseless yellow afterimage
sandalwood combs fighting ebony tangles exquisite centerpiece
erupting stomach’s detoxification applause and eyes always
eyes offset
against vaulted ceilings she does not remember singing.