Penned and Pinned
stop drawing us
down, stop sketching us
as creatures
with beckoning eyes
with shining hair
collared with pearls
or with gold
pinned onto the canvas
like a dead butterfly
with wings outstretched
we are the cramped
fingers closed on the pen
the hand trembling
on the camera held
over the abyss
the calloused skin
where the metal string
hums in its inhuman
song of love
we are what we do
we are what we do
