Hers are catwalks and she gives them
a handful of razors
and the temperature rises. Fierce
flashbulbs line the orchestra pit
and the audience
turn their face up. Modern living
tears the bedsheet in two.
Nothing is on the horizon for her
but zeroes. Red zeroes.
Showing posts with label secret poetry club. Show all posts
Showing posts with label secret poetry club. Show all posts
Saturday, 18 October 2014
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