#7459 or The Last Known Photograph of Diane Arbus
I have begun drinking cough syrup despite not having a cold
And dreaming of those days my old friends would do horse tranquilizers
Which is a barbiturate
Which I just learned is ketamine
Which, I suppose, is to say both ketamine and my name start with a K.
Why are you sitting in my bathtub, Diane?
It’s been two days, this was supposed to pass.
You cannot pull tragedy from our arms, Diane;
You cannot separate the blood from the anesthetic it is choking on.
If art was supposed to save you,
Why are you buried in a cemetery that doesn’t hold your name?
You were a photographer,
I guess it make sense you’d shoot
Yourself like this.
Diane, did you know your last photograph is an angel number?
Do you ever think about how water does not drown,
Even when it is full of humans?
Diane, do you ever think about your ex husband while you’re kissing that married man?
Do those hands still remember holding you? Or more importantly
Does your body remember holding those hands?
My girlfriend falls asleep in our bed,
And I wander the streets alone.
I do not think she notices.
I am tired of this skin.
Is your body still yours if you give it to the ground?
You cannot undark room yourself, Diane.
Depressive episodes are not camera obscures,
You cannot Vermeer yourself onto a new canvas.
In that final crescendo, did you realize
You were trying to undevelop yourself?
Did it work?
By Kate Wilson
Kate is from Mammoth Lakes, California. They have recently found a new home in Salt Lake City, Utah where they are working towards a BA in English and an MA in teaching. Kate is a Virgo with a Gemini rising & a Taurus moon. They love swing sets more than most people who love swing sets. They practice regular necromancy & are attempting to escape orbit. They have competed in poetry slams in Utah, Arizona, and Idaho and have toured in Idaho, Nevada, and California. They were also part of Westminster College’s CUPSI team, and competed in Chicago, Illinois.