I Guess This One Should Be Pretty
by dan ankers
Over her soft shoulder shrugs
a mountain of sugar and waves of cocaine
In pleasure centers triggered
Relays the Blue Moon
This woman blonde and cold blue stare
No crown in her touch
and no substance to her glare
as if she
borrowed this beleaguered body
From a time
down there
She wriggles and laughs
and
asks for a match
Inhales the sulphur
and
smoke along with the ash
and she arches her hips,
watching infinity lapse
And we dare
to befriend the moon here
where time stretches vast
like a coyote’s wail
late, cold and high
in the cutting room sky
And the part gets left out
where you saw yourself cry
in the morning-time-mirror
one more time, the mascara
one last time
the bold eye
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