Your vision of me
Is my single covering,
And mine, of thee,
Thy soul's only modesty.
Would you strip away
All that is warm with hope,
Full of promise,
With the scalpel of your curiosity,
Pare me to skeletal bone,
Enchained forever by your sight,
A camera, to steal another soul,
A cage, repealing flight,
A pot, in which to miniaturise,
Is that who you would have me be,
A confirmation of mortality?