Decorative Woman
Taken away from the cobble street strolls
Aperitivos and black silk pants
Earth has stopped rotating
People are using Salvador Dalí clocks
Melting in the desert
We melt
The sand hits our eyes and we find safety in the profile of a woman
She is missed
The rubbing of her outlines have disintegrated
Eyes are replaced by almonds
Her jaw line coils with silly string
Marigolds navigate the shape of her lips
Hidden behind her ribbons
The scent of thrift store pleather and hospitals
Frame after frame
I can see only red then grey
Roses next to pâté
Coconut spit and bird droppings
Hands being hands
A diagram of her in the flesh