no one can do this
fire and ice coming out of her mouth.
in her pursuit to justify her own voice
she separates the sounds from the lyrics
the second half of her life would be so much different
easily mesmerized
bending her own rules
living while still alive
eyes so sharp
webbed with desire and lust
strange lips
craving to take the shape of the last meal
closed tight at night
shining granite weaving
following a kiss or a monstrous fight
Granite Weaving, 1988, by Jesus Morales
