The Whiteness of the Whale: Chapter 42
Your enemy.
Stare. You made out
my body in the dark,
dumb and glowing—
a churchyard of snow.
A December field
but for the pink tongue
and prickly shadows. It was a shock.
A phantom, nothing to discern.
A giant blank. You used the eyes
of others to watch
for my body, strange
and shivering. Painted on top,
dressed with skin.
The paint was a lie
but the act of painting was real.
You stood on the abyss.
My body dove. It was speckled,
brown, earth-bound. The whiteness
was your own mind looking on.