Poem: Lonely Girl
Splayed on her sofa
like a hastily disposed corpse haphazardly stashed
out of the way of more important harbingers of Life,
she watches the screens,
the big one on the wall and the little one in her demure hand,
waiting for the next plot point, the next map point, the point of all her affluent solitude,
searching for something profound or fleeting, comforting, or leading to contentment
to be found.
Do you know how beautiful you are, lonely girl?
Do you know how desirable,
inspiring amorousness in the distant ones
who imagine touching your concerned brow,
your worried wrist,
caressing away the rage with tender kisses turning more insistent and directed
with each moan you release
from the cage where you imprison them?