woman in a shop
A woman in a shop
She sat in a shop that sells jumpers and scarves
doing some embroidery for a wealthy client who
wanted his name in big red letters to make it clear
his exalted sanding, but also as a person who
bought wares made by hand
When the man who runs a famous site had
gone in a fanfare surrounded by sycophants
she tied on a silk dress of untold value and
we embraced at the foot of hell
the dress was not for the intended bride
The girl, artis with needles and threads, had
green eyes as a bottomless sea impossible to
read in bedroom light or in a shelter waiting
for the bus to take us heavenward in the sin
of greedy sex and thorn lips
Oh, this heavenly day, a haze of dreams
most of them unfulfilled, lacking in the truth
as something partly remembered, a line
a famous poet wrote, but whatever it was
she stung me with her needles
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