Red— Fragments in Conversation 

In Venice they wear masks 
Painted lips smile forever 
Red

So you like wearing costumes?

Anything I wear is a costume

Can the mask hide you from Death?

Nothing hides from Death except the living. 
They dance.

Forever 
cold licks upon my collarbone

Is that all you can feel?

No, there is always the knife.

The knife?

The one I imagine 
                                             Plunging 
                         Deep 
Into the luminescence braided of my veins 
hits the bone, scrapes, twists, anchors. 
In bearing many shapes 
it loves me. 
I sharpen it on the whetstone of beauty 
caught in kitchen dust.

Why do the dust mice love the wine-red walls?

Red Blood 
Sanguinary Smile 
Constantly  
                             my mother 
gives me iron water 
it tastes of blood 
No Blood tastes of Iron

If you wash it all away, has it ever existed?

Always, I remember the taste of my finger 
Butter wax knifed

Is that the same knife?

No, this one is real. 
It anchors into flesh 
Tethered strip, tenuous 
                                                   Connection 
In the walls of the red castle 
thought they would be safe behind 
any door ever closed.

Who are they?

Not me. 

I know what you are 
Peacekeeper // Tiebreaker 
Ever to mitigate 
Draw a card

All cards are blank. 
I just see their eyes 
behind the masks