I saw disillusionment
standing today
on the corner of
Lip Hair and Thumb.
Though I nary had known
its grotesque and its gloom
my eye-skin was
already numb.
It lay there, just waiting,
grinning and cruel.
Above it a brow
so proud and so strong,
beneath it a jawline
well chiseled and coiffed,
with some hair, not too
short nor too long.
Some eyes, autumn gold
and high cheek bones of stone,
with a wolfish boy-grin
down below,
and an arm
tendons flexing to
move all the bones,
strained fingers
to bed and to bow.
The hand, once so
powerful, regal, and rough
was so dainty and
delicate then.
Dug deep to the knuckle
in the handsomest nose,
I would never see
handsome again.
No comments:
Post a Comment