wandering intoxicating intersections, an architect’s Garden, a serpentine playground,
she found prohibitions palisade oozing licentious idleness;
the Bar, its own place and in itself a church, devout.
and in the sanctuary of nocturnal gates,
she preyed in the languid air of adulterated grace.
she turned and faced Good judgment’s patrons,
and weighed upon the mind fixed by pious deception:
she was a woman, baroque, like empty pockets and wedding cake,
all distraction and coquetry,
an undulating facade hyperbolizing hypnagogic imagery,
a siren masked in silence, seducing sympathy.
a vessel of the drafted mien, constricted to the vein
shifting, shaping, round and up, her figure,
the outcome of a star-crossed war with chance, configured.
her daedal blueprint of genetic hard wiring, conspired.
shadowing the seraphic source of being, admired.
vain pain painted portraits of a distilled life
a wanton frieze measured, by compass and ruler.
trademark Instruments to sanctify grace laced with an Eve’s concupiscence.
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