From obscure silhouettes
and a mimicry of Kupecky
she's perched in a forlorn join
beguiling,
spiraling dust from the gold
matisse-like cigarettes
cross-legged
making all else mockery.
Like a glimpse
of Notre-Dame in late afternoon
her mind glistens
as waters move dark blue
subdued
like eruptions at a taste
then gone
I suck my tongue
left
with lipstick on my face.
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