Painted Into Flesh Poem by Jenny Kalahar

I sat among mannequins
chin on wrist, elbow on knee
uncomfortably
clothed to disguise, to disappear
but I was found
tossed atop a heap of plastic limbs
laughed at for being human
and not wanting it to be true

I dressed in blues and greens
and cow-browns
and stood in a nearly-forgotten museum
against landscape paintings,
wanting to disappear
standing still
pretending each careful inhalation
was merely the swaying of breeze
in oil or watercolor leaves

I avoided sun for a year
turned pale as fog, as cloud
tried to evaporate with morning mist
over greening ground
tried to levitate
make my heart hesitate
but I was found
and called a solid thing.
My words were heard
my poems read
and here I am within your reach
smiling back
posing in the foreground
painted into flesh.