my room has a white curtain
made of voile, with an under layer of more voile
and today because my heart is heavy i stare at it
and imagine the possibilities.
so many colours i could dye it.
so many ways in which i could hang it
so many overtops to use
or just a bamboo blind underneath it
but it is white.
and white tells no lies, hides no secrets
white covers no imperfections
white highlights all the wrong
and i want to add that it is next to a white closet.
inside it is all manners of jungle.
folded jungle, and thrown carelessly jungle
clean jungle, and denim jungle
and i could never put the jungle next to my white curtain
unless enclosed within the white closet.
white creates an illusion
of cleanliness and purity
and we chose it thus because we do not think
that white has also a density
thick enough to mask jungle.
my white curtain full of possibilities
but hampered by it's whiteness.
now if all things were white
including my skin and my teeth
and people's hearts and our bed linen
we would not need the closet next to the white curtain
with it's thick, dense closet doors.
we would just leave everything as. after all, there would be no imperfection. right?
beyond my white curtain is the balcony
burglar proofed from the street and eyes outside.
and because of the white voile under layer below
my white curtain is dense
so if i walk unclothed in the room,
even though my skin is dark as a looming night
eyes outside cannot tell, if it's imperfection
because of my white curtain and it's possibilities
my room looks bigger for my white curtain, for it
interferes not with the symmetry of the walls
it's an extension of wall against white wall
oh, the endless possibilities.
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