Allen Forrest, Forrest Family Feeding The Squirrels (ink on paper)
A thin line of flesh outlined the geisha's mask, as if her face
were growing, but it was meant to entice,
to reveal just enough to say there was more
in the way a knitted sweater is a series of portholes,
and the body, the ocean, the thing contained
in its projection, a ship in a bottle, a cancer in its cell,
or the waiting room itself, where from airport-like windows
children are watched in a play-yard
as they cross each other like an eclipse.