By Nathan Lindsay
If only the cancer
of her glistening image
were some benign shade
rather than a malignant
choral overture
spreading radiant beams
of green memory
above troubled dreamscapes.
Her eyes sleek with wonder
over the powering landscape
of this city’s glowing charm.
The way stars faded…
…as if bowing to her
iridescent sovereign presence
over the domain
of a busy Pacific coastline.
Her hair divinely draped
across polka-dot contours
whispering through this
tumor of spreading time.
A dormant diffusion
of sprinkled nightfall
offers little cure…
…for corrupted desires…
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