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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=412544" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Infanta</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=412544" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">For a moment it flashed <br>through me, I thought I <br>remembered being someone before now, <br>the her who was me <br>hurt, felt, <br>embedded like a whorl in wood. <br>The photograph is black and white, <br>but I know the dress was amber-- <br>she bells out toward me, <br>her fingers resting against <br>a cage of satin, <br>she stands the way I do <br>already--is that it-- <br>or have I never forgotten how <br>to stand like her? </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=412544" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">If I could just take the fire with me <br>into the next room I might sleep <br>and stumble into the black hole <br>of that photographer's studio, <br>back into the frame, <br>a wax doll, head and hands <br>emerging out of her costume, <br>like the infanta of Velasquez, <br>her future already in place, <br>maids-in-waiting, a dog, the dwarf, <br>everyone staring into a dream so dense <br>nothing ever escapes it.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Ioanna+Carlsen">Ioanna Carlsen</a></strong></div>

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