Repainting Dorian by Adeline Cruz

What I didn’t realize was the canvas mirrored my skin,
stolen flesh stretched out across wooden bones.
I traced the figure’s smile,
pigments luscious enough to lick.
I pledged my soul to keep my beauty,
fleeting passions, and prizes of youth
so I could continue conquering
the names etched within my yellow book.
Then my lord may finally be proud of me
and the man I could someday become
I built a shrouded house to hide my secret,
washed white with milky latex
and sanded down with sin
until it glowed like the moon on its brightest day
masquerading as my friend.
I thought he would be proud to hear my exploits
to see the indulgence in my sense
but the abject horror in his eyes
said I strayed too far
when I took another’s life.
So I stripped the gold leafing
enclosing my wispy frame
Took daggers to my promise,
palette knives to scrape the paint:
Ivory from the pageant smile
rosy red from off my cheeks
copper from my silky spirals
the glint from envious eyes of green
Hands that never knew an honest day
the haughty puff inside my chest
a snicker that could crack a spirit
the listless rock inside my breast
I plunged the knife into the depths
until the color drained from every pore
until a crash called my lord to find me
crumpled on my sword.

Adeline Cruz is based in the United States, braving the long, bitter winters of Minnesota with the help of her trusted yaktrax. She has work forthcoming in Penumbra. When she isn’t composing poetry, you might find her whipping up a new recipe or meandering through a state park.