Isabel Rhoten

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Text: It is a party glossed with boas and no flash and toasting to fill up space with sounds of glass you sneak clinks hear hear magic is pouring from a dark bottomless pitcher of anything can happen

When the girl in the skirt asks if you have anything for cramps you give her your backup tylenol hesitant wanting to explain what can happen to a human liver when exposed to large amounts of acetaminophen but she has already swallowed and moved on reapplying her lip tint in a color you’ve never heard of the party is loud as you leave the bathroom with your flaws exaggerated a woman

As you adjust your top to be more revealing than it typically is unsure of your own agenda in a mood to undress yet hyperaware of all your shortcomings in fabricating this image you liken yourself to a woman made of marble draping cloth over one shoulder you imagine yourself The Veiled Virgin apart from your body unaware of hands sculpting you to stillness light favors you let it in

A woman is uncrossing her legs and the entire room shifts from right to left somehow she is both on the ceiling and in the floor absorbed in gesture and pose bubbling inward from the corners where all the spiders crane their necks to catch a glimpse of her she sips leans soft on a wall she wants to fade into it