mona

She sits across the subway car.

Just an observation:
she is a morphology between the hedonistic urge and the screaming guilt,
a new geometry of beauty
which is traveling along Williamsburg Bridge.

Her lips–
a thin-narrow thread between her inner solitude
and my external celebration of an urban nihilism.

Her hands–
the Orange Book embraced by the sensual-aristocratic fingers.

I see her superimposed on the window
with the background of the empyrean Manhattan,
peeking through the haze of the casual fatigue.

One day I’ll paint her,
over your reflection on the glass wall

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “mona

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s