THE POETESS

For Chloe...

Her days consist of redefining cognition:

solitary - and she wouldn't have it another way

for she loathes distraction - she lies on her bed, curled

like a kitten, purring when the right words come.

Wanton, bare-breasted, feminine; she sculpts

fanciful images from abstract truths

that come across as alluring promises,

like ripe red apples from immoral blooms.

Her eyes twinkle with playful mischief

as stanza follows stanza across the screen,

hoping she'll be remembered after she's gone

as imagination's great interpreter...

but, too immersed in erotic metaphor, she eludes

the real, the solid, a lover's touch. 😉😉