Self Portrait, 1988
by Helen Marino
Erect, erotic chiaroscuro of cock
the gun, pull the trigger—
a flash goes off.
My Polaroid is hot
capturing the perfect position;
poised human bodies,
stretched to their extremes
in a display of sex and truth;
woman and man,
lilies and ball gags,
skin and leather
scattered around the Chelsea.
Each day rushing by—
vignettes of black
and white.
Patti knows I live passionately,
each moment bursting with life
and lust and love and
just like Janis and Jimi,
(Just Kids)
this way of living is fatal,
but if I have to change my lifestyle,
I don’t want to live.
I clutch the Cain of death;
My father wants me
to be like my brother,
but I can’t be—
to love men in the 80’s
is a death sentence.
Do not mourn me;
my life was as tender and callous,
disciplined and wild,
delicate and full
as one of my photographs.
I am the most beautiful work of all—
it only lasted a split second.