entranced by a silver tongued dichotomy
sharp like bruised tact, a tic intermittent
the sign reads, we’re open at six
the fervent ones, riding each leaden gulp
purring and wet just after 3:00 a.m.
drown by the moon, her fluorescent stare
drinking the inky sheen in sheer resolve
there exposed, quiet like milky thighs
impending three times three distinct slaps
motion and stillness are momentarily magnified
then swallowed inside the ticking clock
©10.29.2010 heather brager
(photo by Anaris88 via deviantart.com)
