Strobeflash —
Xenon illumes the dark:
Red-Yellow-Green-Orange-Blue-Red
Poppers stop,
And the tastesmell of stale burnt iron
lies curled on my upper lip
A potent dragon.
In my sister’s coppered eyes I see
Our bitter women’s wisdom:
Knowledge of ages past.
I look at her, seeing myself
And I wonder…
Those eyes,
What horrors have they seen?
Whose rapes, whose wanton murders?
And yet, how amazing —
It is not the eyes that show the strain,
but the innocent face which surrounds them.
A flicker of matchflare
Highlights cheekbones, jawline,
Liberates her face from
Neondim barlight.