Karma

Karma

she slouches in graypale trousers
on a gleaming kitchen counter,
swims in a cowl-neck sweater
with pixie-fingered hair.
she glows intently, though not intentionally,
eyes glitterfloating smiles
into an already-radiant room.
best of all, and barely visible,
she wields wings of salt water taffy,
brandishes bits of sugary gloss
that stretch even the dullest of days
into springy-sweet pulls of wonder.