Beatrice Descending A Staircase

She is iffy, magical,
airy, alights
on branches in tonic
autumn, pays
retail, almost
has the hang
of multitudes of
its—ah, have
you seen her
shaving,
resplendent says my
mouth when
I'm not looking
which isn't often
I'll dream of
those eyes until
my coffin
two geckos on
the wall inside
my mind. Everyone
loves a lover,
she stares upon
stairs
disapproving,

moving.

by Larry Sawyer

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