At death’s door, at the closing bell,
Beauty lowers her ephemeral gaze:
Sterility swallows whole, vomiting hell.
-- Ross McCague - The Muse
I saw you today don’t ask me how.
You were holding a book of poetry,
Going from one room to another
With a big smile on your face.
Your long dyed hair needs a dye-job,
But you are focused on the intellect lately.
On the other hand I’d say you are indeed
Coquettish, in an abstract way.
What really impressed me
In this image of yours, was the mouth.
I had to leave or else you’d see me
Come out of it.
