Inseparable, these clothes from this skin,
these glass slippers from the soles
of tiny bisque feet, bound against
becoming too human. Fingers
forked out through cotton meshes
like larvae forced out of their cocoons.
Under the wraps, a place so dangerous
it could not go unveiled. Rouge
brings out the perverse desire
to see her gathered closely in her own destruction.
These are the dreams that come with lacquered eyes.