She is not event free

I’ve been on the elevator

With her and I’m sure

Her convex maturity

Her crepuscular allure

Reflecting American materialism

For her own glory

Attractive at least notionally

The Lady of a Hundred Hands

In a high touch town

Torched by an angel

Symptoms returning

In a declining margin

Wait I still function

An iconoclastic riot

Tipping ajar

Is she not she is

The shroud of virtue

Perfumed with vice

About ubu507

memory documentation and manipulation
This entry was posted in art, Poetry, Poetry and Art, Woman. Bookmark the permalink.

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