So, my eyes are shut and
I’m lying down,
on my belly usually (during a massage,
or fucking, for example),
and I sort of lose the knowledge of,
             you know,
my place in the world:
the way I look, how tall I am, even
how long my arm is
compared to my head or
how far it is from my knee
to my foot
and I have these visions of a
strangely proportioned version of me,
or someone else that reminds me of me
(in some small way)
but is nothing like the me in my head
when I’m, you know,
eyes wide,
and I start to feel scared in case,
when I come to,
I’m not the same me I thought I was
and maybe I could just stay in there
l o n g  a r m s  s t r e t c h e d
like blu-tack
and toeslikepins,
muscles peeling back and forth
with the pressure of movement,
my organs expanding          outward          until
they’re ( )pen
and exp( )sed –

what if that’s the real me and
not this collection of mostly proportioned
limbs and torso and bruises and the
make-up that I rubbed into my eyes and
the blisters on the backs of my heels
from shoes that I know are
too small, but wear anyway, because
they’re pointy in the way that I like,
maybe if I just
keep my eyes shut
I could skip all that
and live my myth alone
and stretched


Claire Albrecht participated in MAKE! ART! NOW! as part of This is Not Art 30 September – 2 October 2016.MAKE! ART! NOW! is an initiative to creatively bring together TINA’s three parties – Critical Animals, National Young Writers’ Festival and Crack Theatre Festival.

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