Francesca Woodman

                              i

At the heart there is a hollow sun

by which we are constructed and undone

 

                              ii          

Behind the mirror. Favourite place to hide.

I didn't breathe. They looked so long I died.

 

                              iii          

What's shown when we unveil, disclose, undress,

is first the promise, then its emptiness

 

                              iv          

Ghost-face. Not because I turned my head,

but because what looked at me was dead.

 

                               v

— We don't exist — We only dream we’re here —

This means we never die — We disappear —

 

                               vi

We’d met ‘in previous lives’, he was convinced.

Yeah, I thought. And haven’t spoken since.

 

                               vii

All rooms will hide you, if you stand just so.

All ghosts know this. That's really all they know.

 

Don Paterson, “Francesca Woodman”, from 40 Sonnets, Copyright © 2015 by Don Paterson. Reprinted by permission of publisher.

Source: 40 Sonnets (Faber and Faber Ltd., 2015)