Friday, October 28, 2011

belascollage

her legs in the grip of lace --
black vines of lace winding up from the asphalt,
liquid roots welling in her combat shoes.

licorice gum spicing her talk.
charcoal dusting knees & fingertips.
& smoke. cloud rising from her shoulderline.

hair a floe of lava
bleeding heat through the fog.

ashes like pepper
wandering the winter air,
false snow spotting her lips.

& she flaming. a fresh-lit matchstick
yellow from the sulphur, gold spark
taunting a colorless moon

before falling on the sidewalk.
& the lamp-post reflecting the flame.

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