* after Georges de la Tours, The Penitent Magdalen
Mirror frames it all aside
From where the canvas she is
From where the canvas she is
Destined in absolute stillness
Of the trapping darkness.
The world forgotten
With all its slyness and fake kindness
With all its slyness and fake kindness
Where everything is given for a price
Engulfed in fake metaphors—
Like the candle as a lamp.
Like the candle as a lamp.
It melts and dies out
What lies on her lap
Is the realization that the flesh
Had rotten out
Leaving a petrified skull
Shining on the candle’s light.
Is the realization that the flesh
Had rotten out
Leaving a petrified skull
Shining on the candle’s light.
