Theda Bara in Cleopatra 1917
From the dawn of time, women have been held hostage by the fantasies of weak, selfish men. Clothed in death and coerced into lassoing the moon for her milk, how can we ever consider wealth and fame as food for our souls? Or the price paid with batting false eyelashes, smiling capped teeth, on our backs, on our knees, bending over for a dream. Biting snake of the poppy soothes as it dances in our veins. Shiny sequins shiver over our clammy skin.
director yells wrap
goddess glides to limousine
shades mirror red sun
Carrie is the host of The Sunday Muse.