The Diva
I look at my toes,
appendages on aging feet;
crusty nail on Hallux
masked with crimson red;
the others,
too disfigured, even for this disguise.
You placed your lips around it once; this toe
a while ago, too long ago;
before.
Your lipstick matched the color, I remember.
Faintly.
All ten grip the edge of the board;
though,
I barely see them, past the distention.
High above the pool, empty now, drained.
Ravens stabbing at some carrion
a putrid captive in a blue empty basin.
They won’t let go;
they will;
I have.
One last dive.
I was
magnificent!
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