psa_maiyet_ss14campaign_4Alula : Maiyet Spring/Summer 2014

Amelia Brown

Behind closed eyes there is movement,

A feather underwater, she is rising

rising, rinsed and dried in the half-sun.


The glazed, washed glamour of morning,

frescura like a faint vision of someone else’s garden,

Silk whistling around the shins,

the snap of lingerie and the flapping of beaded wings

A fractured calamus bound by rolled organdy



encrusted plumes, leaping plumes

pluming swirls of silk and swish,

Pale fire between arching wings

A new, vague but incandescent paradise



With the tufted insouciance of a plucked polka dot,

the mercurial tick of an elusive

hothouse bloom she is slipping,

slipping, quick through the fingers



diaphanous as the tincture of memory

mercury washes the skin, over the clink of steel bones

Sweat drips and cracks in crystalline symmetry

as fan blades click overhead


Go away closer now,

color seen through vellum eyelids,

this is the diaphanous flotsam of the twilight,

this is the floral crush of pulp underfoot.


She dives winged into the glassy pool,

glowing white and cooled,

stilled by the sting of spilled rubies,



*Alula is the term for a bird’s winglet, a small part of the wing that allows for lift and landing while in flight.

(Image Credit:


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