Leopard throw
Matted with lice and fleas
Dirt and grime
Your face contorts
As the wind blows against it
Hair that is matted
Shoes of a seventeen year old
Only one hole
Could last for months
In this life
A few more quarters
One from the woman
In the patent leather shoes
With heels
Higher than hopes
More expensive than
A month
That one looks angry
Faced with despair
On a nice night
How dare…
As She Sleeps
A limp body
Pale flesh draped across
Folds of dark fabric
Littered with strands
Like artificial auburn
No electricity
No force pulling
Sheer exhaustion
Against the canvas
Fingers and toes
Dead to the touch
Reminiscent of winter frosts
Shallow breath
Labored in faux rest
Tormented as if she were
The lost banshee
Of some time forgotten place
Glittering with supernatural dews
And foreboding fogs
Yet she sleeps
Scant signs of distress
Throughout
Warm hands brush along the wax
As it hardens
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment