figurative media

random rhyme schemes 4 the win.

my hands are wrist deep
in basins 
of developer.
humidity wrinkles each fingertip
like figs red and ripe
and sweet raisins.

each second saturating
once through a lens
of contact, then glass.
I vacated some reality
to enter a liminality
a shower to cleanse.

stripping everything down
to the frame.
a bleach bath turns
leather glove to skin
time eats even in famine
peach fuzz to pit.

taking all, just to leave
a skeleton captive.
hands vying to mold a body,
movie, slideshow;
a canvas for nothing to grow.
yet a part of me, I give

to an art, unresponsive.
everything at its core
is an expression of love.
wrapped in sheets of film
before entering the kiln.
my artifacts to adore.

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