Perdita in pieces

Perdita’s confusing profusion of parts
     makes it impossible to know
          which way up 

       she goes.

She flutters beneath
     the camera’s shuttered stare,
   butterfly-pretty,
                 laid bare.

—–

     Perdita wears a new face
   every day of the week.
The old ones accumulate
        in her wardrobe,
            curling at the edges
                as they dry out.

—–

Download Broken Perdita!
Perdita’s foot, in a glass slipper.
Perdita’s hand, in marriage.
Perdita’s head, on a plate.

—–

Sugared splice of our zeitgeist.

—–

Perdita loses herself in
   hyperfast drowsy porno vignettes,
               mind stuttering,
   body wired,
       in pieces,
       in and out
of someone else’s
consciousness

—–

The empty stage.

—–

       When Perdita steps
       into her wardrobe
   she enters herself.

Scarlet dresses gape at her,
      fake furs paw her.

When she exits
               she’s stripped bare.

—–

One yellow LA morning
      Perdita wakes up
and realises she’s less real
than the smashed mirror
          by her bed.

—–

Copyright James Knight. All rights reserved.

 

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