Home | Lizzie Wortham

Stepping out of the stream,

my animal body connects with the forest I live in. I find the grail in the trumpet of the chantrelle, and the paused twitch of the doe's cupped ear.

The painting reels me out.

When the thin invisible line is slack, I can swim freely, the hook through my lip like an ear piercing. When the line tightens I am reeled in with pain and fury brought face to face with my captor.

Both my love and my captor,

painting is my mirror and my compulsion. Standing on firm ground, I take the Fisher King’s face between my palms and kiss him firmly, eye to eye.

Stepping out of the stream,

my animal body connects with the forest I live in. I find the grail in the trumpet of the chantrelle, and the paused twitch of the doe's cupped ear.

The painting reels me out.

When the thin invisible line is slack, I can swim freely, the hook through my lip like an ear piercing. When the line tightens I am reeled in with pain and fury brought face to face with my captor.