works by william pham, 2005-present
Contemplating the Dry-cleaning We build prisons in our hearts. We build prisons in our hearts, is what she whispered into the collar of my cashmere sweater and I wondered if I would have to take it to the cleaners' when all was said and done, because She left a death mask on my chest. She left a death mask on my chest, on my blazer lapel and through my sunglasses it looked more like the Mona Lisa painted with tears than the afterimage of her face. You're no Helen of Troy, You're no Helen of Troy, came the words spilling over ice like three-dollar specials and she trembled and trebled in troubled voice: We build prisons in our hearts, We build prisons in our hearts, We build prisons in our hearts.
copyright (c) 2005 by william pham