Kate Moss practices meditation

A Poem by Anon ymous.

Once she opens her eyes it will be all over.

A small brown bird sits on the sill, next to geraniums.
Believing is art.

An unfinished painting leans against the wall.

She folds her hands together.
The wind passes over in a trance.

She says it is cruel to capture fireflies, steal their light.

Her lips are dry, a leaf flutters then falls;
she curses it, but never out loud.

She is unrepentant.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s