Autonomy

You named me:

object, doll, art.

Symmetry of cloves

and cloisters.

Fertility of faces,

lashes, lips.

Harmony of oranges,

globes luscious, impenetrable.

Everyone wants to be

a beautiful woman,

to live in that skin.

Standing in lambent loveliness,

chandelier-adorned

and adoration-soaked,

yes, I let you gaze.

I gave you that

in exchange for being seen,

to have dimension,

my power

refracted

through you

into something meaningful—

but empty

in the end,

only kaleidoscope sorcery.

We are named:

queen,

cuckquean,

fool.