'Twixt Fallen Gems |
The minutes in a waltz did pass
while
ceiling art in shame had froze
two copulating
humanoids
and trapezoid portmanteaus. The
creases in my flaxen pinafore
twice circumambulated my personage
and
twenty times the blue-jay yonder
croaked in moderato, aching falsetto...
But all he could sing was perfect rhyme
of lovely face
and framing lace.
Is her meter so
vapidly iambic,
Scanning features so curtly monosyllabic?
Has she creases halving her lid of eye
so incongruity shades
moiety?
Or rapturous locks deadening
the weightlessness, the capriciousncss of her
heedlessness?
Stands she as Aphrodite -
effecting pangs of breathlessness?
Or melds her figure with the mold
of slender rapier exquisiteness?
But all
he could sing was d.c. coda.
So I lazed amongst my menagerie
of
pinafores and portmanteaus
while twice the hours a knockin' came and twice
the evening hung a deeper shade.
but nothing so limped as did his
speech
staggering gait, shadow of disease
rooting gems sequentially
so fallen they were,
from her striking visage,
unto the floor. |
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| - Tanya Mamedalin |
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