after Early Colored Jackie, Andy Warhol, 1964
I
He told her to do her eyebrows, so she did. Drew them in until they were unrecognizable & not demure in the slightest & arched partially like she was shocked at the world’s cruelty, but smiling as though she was funding it. He told her to put lipstick on, so she did. Painted her lips with blood splatter crimson until they looked like she bit a rose and let herself bleed out. Let herself put a bit of black on too near the edges of her lips, watching it come closer and closer & let it consume her a little bit.
II
She fussed with her hair for half a moment & tried to make it look presentable, like she was straight out of a castle in the woods which was ruled over by a king & straight out of the past & she was a happy resident of Camelot. She was not a happy resident of Camelot. She walked herself up to the castle & smiled & said hello & welcome & all the things you say to your thieving,cheating, venerated king & reapplied her lipstick just like he said to & she let the pastel of her dresses succumb to the electric nature of her anger & how could she ever cope with the thought of her man with another? She never could. she was electric now. What is electricity if not a series of signals one step from catastrophe?
III
Jackie Kennedy
was cheated on horribly—
Burn, Camelot. Burn.