A Sunny Scene

She wore her black bikini
That just clung to her hips,
Her over-sized sunglasses
Perched above her lips.
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The Curator

Her words string barbed wire in this airy hall,
Crippling affections, afflicting loves with crutch,
“You may look but do not touch.”
Am I to be but a banjo on the wall—
Mere decoration, never to be played at all?

Painting by Sir Peter Paul Rubens

Painting by Sir Peter Paul Rubens

Consigned to Fate? (Worst day of the year)

My arms are briar patches, little scratches everywhere,
An eggshell kind of fracture, unnatural and rare.
Small rivulets of blood, little inlets running red,
A stinging sharp exaction that can’t distract my stare:
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Because Russ L asked

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