Body in the snow like the Sessho-Seki


You, hull of jadite, lack any desire


Without your own you’ve come seeking ‘want’ from other people


You, qubit palladium bird sculpture


Today you’re thinking of all the European fantasies you played service-boy to


You, thrusted object


His fixation on the size of your areolas


You, patterned vase sitting in a room, exist only in this kind of weather


Nobody talks about how winter hovers its mouth over your shoulder


You are sure to remember


That a certain hour of pre-dawn will hide anything it can


You stop wanting when you are told to


God made the cold to remind you of nothing


You are the only decorative object on this train


Does this snow invite your nudity the same way he did


You forget to say no


Does the winter want you the same way


You go away


Body against white everything


You come back

See also: Terror, Terroir | ARTIST'S STATEMENT: HOLY PLACE