2003 Poetry

The woman with the rusty scale

is working on her intuit.

Destructing her is the smell of

the air that suffocates her will.

The shade of the dark envelops her iris

nothing but total blackness springing

palpably across her vision of perception.

Standing proud and confident

is the object of her scale.

Wearing impudent leers; he begins

to sing his opus of fibs.

She listens intently, striving to discern

a speck of candor in between his pauses,

but nothing seems audible enough

to better her judgment except

the howling of a wolf.

And darkness dethroned luminosity

He walks freely, spitting and mocking

then he closed the door behind him.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

written 9/15/03

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