The Secret Space of Fabric
Second skin, latter placenta, animal envy, personal tent,
warp traveller, diplomat, psychic veil, ubiquitous comforter;
curtains for the glass house of nightmares that protect me;
my shroud, my tabard, my garden, my pet; my labour of love,
Braille of my hands, coloured beverage spilling into my thirst.
Yea, though I hardly rustle through infinity, it clouds me and no one can
see me and the edge of inside/outside has a membrane. I want to be seen
but not looked at. When I gaze across the atrium of the mortal coil,
the view is as sheer as organdie whether before or behind me. Through
the narrow slit in the blinds, I see a wingtip brush across his chest.
My ancestors have left me great treasures as unread as a Rosetta Stone.
My hammock, my bedtime story, my transitional object to here and
beyond, fed by the imperceptible buzz of insects and the flowers
that loved them; the thrashing and sheering, whorl and whirling,
boys tufting to the cantor’s instructions, heddle clacking,
my arrière grand-mère crocheting, my mother’s trousseau,
the things my hands know.
Materialization, lengths of goods.
The silent missive of kohl rimmed eyes.
Reprinted, with revisions, from:
The Secret Space of Fabric. (Series).“CDFP 383 Digital Capture I Final Exhibit.” Rob Allan, Instructor.Heidelberg Centre. 125 Bond Street, Toronto, Canada. 12 April 2010.
See also photos of Secret Space of Fabric
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To Cite this Work
| CMS |
Valérie C. Kaelin Website; “Poetry: Poetry Bio and CV”; December 13, 2012. Accessed Month, Day, Year. http://www.valeriekaelin.com.
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| MLA |
Kaelin, Valérie C. Poetry: Poetry Bio and CV. Toronto, 13 Dec. 2012. Web. Add Day, Abbreviation for Month, Year. |
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