With An Errant Smile

Poem By Mark Heathcote

She'd kissed me with an errant smile
with a blank look scanned her mobile
red nails tapped like a woodpecker
angrily dictated like a sculptor
another day - empty, quotations
no-nesting materials here; just ruins
No soft shapes here; just-depletion
as she presses sent, 'I'm on vacation
I can't compete' with this someone
in telecommunication.

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