magenta curls in the blossom’s mouth, the paper proclaims spring 

contours of plastic, selling the eyes and shipping the mouth overseas and exchanging beauty by hand 

the picture is an erasure, stripped of the blonde curls, the red of the cheek, the pallor of the eyeliner crossing the cusp of the forehead like wires, vines in the crow’s feet and the blue claws on the iris

tell us how the lips sparkled, the story of the face painters, the tale of the clicks and the tracing of the trackpad and the steadily increasing whiteness, the tonal shift of the input and the moralizing of each pore, begging us to believe we can achieve it, preaching the gospel of the redeemed pariah, the climbing beggars, redeemed saints and self flagellation, concealing the bruises, the souls, the unacceptable ink and the missing dark colors, speaking in the green eyes and contact mufflers, denying their existence, building castles of self-doubt, filling them with bodies, sputtering that they were all just so pretty


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