crimson lioness

 

crimson lioness

she exits the train as an orchard apple;

red shoes, unscuffed, hung from smooth

wind-rhythm branches.

as she rolls the streets skyscrapers bow down,

eyes and birds dart about and sing of her motion,

sidewalks cuddle to the touch of her color

and all flowers grieve; ashamed that they can’t

rival her bloom.

 

her arches whisper a crimson sonnet into the air,

for a smoky moment,

 

the city seems peaceful,

 

love lives

 

and life’s troubles are withered

afterthoughts.

Reviews

[W.k.kortas]

I find it interesting that the title character is a "lioness"--which suggests she is on the hunt--but there is a certain softness in the piece, a notion of respectful deference to her beauty; perhaps she is lulling us to sleep? The piece is well-paced, the imagery is fresh and imaginative. A very fine piece of writing.