White

How I ache to be white and unmarked
Of tragedies and memories that only
Bring back shame. How I ache to be 
Like the ones with one piercing, one in
Each ear, with a glass of red wine in hand
And clothes sculpting the body like 
Michelangelo has arisen to fix them
So pleasantly onto my canvas. 
My canvas is marked and defeated,
Blemishes and disproportionate. 
Like the Moses in the San Pietro,
A long torso and sash laid on his
Egyptian prophet. But I do not share his
Rank, just his awkwardness. We are 
Only similar is disproportion, he is
Not blemished, he is an emblem, I am
Merely a craving to the mouth of shame, 
Craving to the mouth of inferiority.