the classical body is
transcendental; poses once thought
un-natural come on a whim and can
be held for time periods unknown
to clocks, holding steady for the
camera clicking behind your iris,
iridescent. curtains of
the blackest lashes, aching to break
from their epidermal sockets of
stillness. the body knows this
staying is ephemeral in the eyes
of the cosmos, knows to keep
muscles from flinching out of formation,
just a little longer.
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