A Thing of Beauty

A Thing of Beauty

“I am a thing of beauty,”

she says, her eyes closed, a dog

watching from the corner.

She and the dog are alone.

“A thing of endless beauty.”

Her naked breasts are weighed low.

The swells and folds of her mottled pink flesh

crest around her legs and stomach like the sea.

Her eyes open,

“Beautiful,”

and she looks in the mirror

at something higher than herself.

She is not in magazines,

or carved into marble.

Troy does not burn behind her.

The dog blinks his wolfish eyes and

she speaks again.

“I am a thing of beauty.”

She does not lie.

My Lonely Friends

My Lonely Friends

Civil War

Civil War

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