A poem by Ali Edwards


I know your pretty shoes
and the brute by your side.
I know your unnoticed coif
done up just right beneath
your bonny bonnet matching
your shoes again, and then,
just so, I know.

I know your lost eyes
seeing nothing
but that no one sees you,
and those green bubbles before you,
when they’re gone,
how you won’t care,
or maybe even remember,
how little you loved,
this place by his side,
with your cup always full,
and your swishy bustle
rough rustled,
at the end of the night.
Frills unmentioned.

Did you glance into your eyes tonight
just for a moment, right
before you placed that little pearl
into your unkissed ear and
hope it might be different?
Did you hail Diana,
or pray Degas to paint
you out into the streets
racing grey chapeau falling beauty
gusting on your own wind
wild on and ever on faster
to what end no matter nor master 
rushing eyes now brightening
breathless in glad madness,
thighs robust bounding
with the thrilled quiver
of a freed beast towards
that pearly wanting moon?

Perhaps tomorrow night
you might
but know this trick,
tomorrow is the farthest distance
from that moon and won’t,
L’Absinthe,
it won’t come soon.

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