Apr 20, 2009

The Woman With The Curly Locks

Saline seawater
fills her eyes, obscure
her body swirls leisurely
fingertips grasping
encircling an alien body
suction by the anopheles
drinking to the last drop
its body swollen
into a misshapen form.

Beauty dissolves
into a flimsy thinness
hostage to age,
merciless time stands tiptoe
whisking away the curtain

From the jaded eyes
the sudden flight of intuition
drops like a mellowed leaf
through unfolding twilight,
flickering intellect
surfaces on wrinkled paper
curled and yellow
crumbling like sawdust.

Her curly locks
loosen into straggly strands
sifted like a dry echo
wrung out of a broken cavern.

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