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  • Haylee Caserta


I’ll be a masterpiece.

I’ll change the way you see.

I’ll jog your memory of how beautiful

the world can be.

I’ll be there to point at–


as you pick apart–

details you mistook for flaws.

I’ll be there to gaze at–

to monitor–

awestruck in wonder.

Fawned over.



never lover.

The work of art

making eyes at a busboy

through stained glass windows–

saying hi

to old ladies in truck stop mirrors.

The rarity–

who hides in empty tissue boxes

with a sore throat.

Standing in rain

just too warm to be snow.

The vision–

who makes a home in the nest

of sheets on the bed

that used to be Mother’s.

The miracle–

who defaced the headboard

with Scotch-taped paint samples

and polaroids of Sister and Brother.

The star–

who wonders about visiting them

in the next room.

How I long to be your muse.

See me in flesh–

fall to your knees.

Be graced by the touch

of my hand and sing–

“My Perfect–

my lungs–

Oh, my blessed eyes!”

“My beloved–

my Saint–

Oh, my divine!”


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