The Literati
She speaks with a smokers voiceand talks long fingers in the air
scarlet claws unsheathed sharp
night' s breath escapes its lair.
Once she'd tango on top of the town
paint rainbows on erections she built.
Now she just bores at literary clubs
tanked with gin to the hilt.
Sent by Mama out into the world
a Valkyrie to walk amongst stars
she left and never looked back
only lesions leave a scar
Papa predicted she'd do well
So imbibed with his genes and flair
She wears his favourite high backed collars
and strides with a masculine air.
Poetry by Elle
Read 695 times
Written on 2013-03-09 at 20:11
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Eli |
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Lawrence Beck |
josephus |
countryfog |
Ivan R |
ngaio Beck |
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by Elle Latest textsTwo Little CatsHills Not the End Cinders Oh perfect Day |
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