Tomb of the Wrestlers
When I stand undressed in front of you,
you unshame me in that space,
the home you are, every room red
with Magritte's rose. What is mirage?
How minds entwine & race, pull
through walls like the warp of stars--
volume with no end, no containment--
hothouse in the abstract, inside,
one florescent leap for the edge of alive.
Tanya Grae is the author of the forthcoming collection Undoll (YesYes Books), a National Poetry Series finalist. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in AGNI, Ploughshares, New Ohio Review, Prairie Schooner, Post Road, The Los Angeles Review, The Massachusetts Review, and elsewhere. Find out more at: tanyagrae.com
The Ekphrastic Review
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