This is the breath of life.
For Cleopatra, I line my eyes
with a black felt marker & buff
my nails with ground pearl dust.
I sting my lips with cactus needles
to make them redder.
The last of the last.
This is what it means beyond
Roman genocide: bathing in milk.
This is beauty.
Since her body went to tomb,
there has been war in the East
and men have ruled over murder.