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The Exhibit Must Be Cleaned On Sunday

my pearled gaze / will watch that haze mark the soul / will watch it puncture thirty hollow men

A marble statue which, from the upper torso, turns to a woman, arms above a flower-crowned head.

Content warning: erotic objectification; references to sex


On Sundays, i’ll bathe in rose water, rinse

the mud from my feet and

wash my linen.

i’ll return to my display room, carved

creamy marble streaked in pure honey light, staked to a concrete pedestal.

i’ll sulk in my finest perfumes, and let

the purple tail stray from the open decanter and


my pearled gaze

will watch that haze mark the soul

will watch it puncture

thirty hollow men,

who trace that slight curve of my torso and

fuck my name without even knowing it.

nameless men,

who abbreviate their personality

into plum blush on my neck and


their evils

into bruises on my bottom lip.

whilst in my presence,

man’s eye will transcend time and dress me as his white



shameful youth.

i am his, he reveres me,

father’s namesake

—it is scribed on my title card. i

am that limitless echo, art

leaving a writhing imprint on his stained sheets.

a long dead beauty that only

his eye remembers.

Farrago's magazine cover - Edition Two 2023


We scream and sing, rejoice and mourn, dance and fight in the face of uncertain futures. Read all about it in the second edition of Farrago.

Read online