Tuesday, October 21, 2014


I watch her from the bed
As she stands herself
Before the tall wooden-frame mirror
Studying her naked torso.
Thin shoulders bowed with hopelessness
Bracketing two sags that refuse to look
At anything else than her own feet.

She moves both her hands over the belly
And gathers the folds of skin that hang loose
From her navel to the stubbly pubis.

Desire and humiliation swept over me:
Pity and lust, otherwise;
Decay and new birth troubled me:
Ruins and salvations, otherwise.

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