Friday, May 15, 2009

Mother Haze

The first time I saw you
you stepped off the curb
the streetcar slipped slowly
your hair was disturbed
the brown was strewn,
rivered across
a fading flush
as your thin limbs tossed
to the rush of your heart-beat:
covered in stiff wattage
locking your neck--
the whine of a ship's deck
bowed by wind

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