Etude No.2
Dia Is Muire Dhuit
She walks
towards you, her hips
askew,
her hair scattering
in the wind, floating
gently
over her shoulders,
dancing
like midnight ravens
in a silent flight.
Freckles,
strawberry pencil
marks, sheath
her face, flaunting its
satin snow-covered
glazes.
Her lips shadow a
ballet
amid flamingos’
vivid, delicate,
displays
of elegant breasts.
Sapphire
iridescent eyes
mesmerize all on-
lookers,
penetrating their
absurd,
lame facades, causing
sensory shut-down.