Singlet sashays around her torso, waves of
Pink pearl being splashed by the sun.
She bends, picks up
Her broken high heel and I see her run;
Run like a impala towards a black coat,
Roll like a landslide toward a scuffed pant’s leg,
Crave and rave, like the devil, toward a man.
Singlet ripples across her belly.
She nearly kills herself to reach him. Yet
He never stops walking.
Never takes note. I wonder,
How it must feel,
To be underwater and never have air.
First published on Poet’s Corner June 16, 2016