I'VE CALLED HER 'LIZ...
As though, from spite –
Not so, my love.
Affections naturally blue and coursing
as dropped reposes from each beaded vein.
Bearing strange witness
to those pierced flashes of aubergine,
the hemlock flickering
gorgeous window-shaded lashes
barring entry to her soul.
the unveiling –
not even notoriety’s noose constricts,
faint tabloid kisses lipsticked wet –
a Trojan’s promise
ever made honestly,
from the divine…
womanhood most childlike
- than real
and likened to sport
at playing mistress
amidst uncut yards of glistening celluloid.
and break the tethered heart strings once more.
Oh, Nile-breathed goddess –
…the shadow of your smile refrains.
@Nick Zegarac 2007 (all rights reserved).