NaPoWriMo day 8, poem 9/30. Today's prompt suggested using ottava rima. I've been fighting with this poem for a while, trying to find the right form for it, so I thought I'd give ottava rima a go. I ignored the meter (for now, at least) and tried to re-cut and re-rhyme my original poem. I'm missing what I took out to make it fit the eight lines, so maybe later I'll try a second stanza.
The original inspiration was a series of photos in Gaga by Terry Richardson which show her getting ready for her "Born This Way" Grammy performance. I started writing it a few weeks after her recent surgery. In the meantime, I think it's taken on a bit of a life of its own.
Under
They cover your black lips and feed you air,
your outlined eyes gauze-veiled.
You sleep before they cut away your hair,
saw flesh and bone to find whatever ails
the girl stripped down, threadbare,
open, broken, under, frail.
Gone the ink flowers that bloomed at your hips.
The surgeon paints your blood upon her lips.
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