The taffeta scarf hung-
no, clung-
to the butt end of the
subway stair rail
as if a bag woman
had used the banister as a slide
and vanished into thin air
at the end of her ride
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Poetry without gesticulation.
1 comment:
Me + This Poem= LOVE. true love.
I want to paint this one a lot.
and you... oh wait-- I'm not the one hitting on you... we'll leave that to other folk.
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