by Lola Koundakjian, translated by Daniel Baksi

i roll down piccadilly to see
Franz Kline capturing a room with his alphabet
of black and white –
i breathe through the bodies and
chiaroscuro of it.

to mayfair library, where the woman at the counter recommends me
Àgua Viva. the spine harbours
a resin of blood –
together we knit personal histories
in dreamt-up fragments.

home: when my fingers can beget the prima donna –
they alter typefaces and command ink across
docx files, eke
our butterfly pad for all
the notes it was worth.

a self-portrait
an abstract picture
a mask –

proof we are alive.