poem and photography by Caroline Ruffault
model is Barbara
Has someone died for me to wear a veil?
When did my body become an offense to you?
Is my hair so different from a horse’s mane?
Is my breast so different from an animal ‘s udder?
Do you remember when you were a child?
Just before you menstruated and men started to look at you in a different way?
When your father stopped talking to you?
Do you remember those blessed times?
Where you could still feel the sand on your skin?
The ocean washing your face with all it’s strength?
I remember the smell of sun cream mixed in sand,
I remember taking my panties off
and nobody cared.
I won’t make a prison for myself,
I want the sun on my skin,
I want the wind in my hair,
and travelling under my skirt.
I want your hand on my thigh
leave the window open.