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The Dumbwaiter

Here she is, anything
can be asked of her
Sea gravel underfoot
Behind a guillotine before
the soda jerk opens it
to a glass vegetable spread
with cutlass smiles
her mime complexion
in this photograph
to be still life beauty
before a night of trekking
because she only wants
to escape our plan
move away from a Lady in a Lake
through dumb waiter
lobbies filled with hands
crawling to catch her
spilling voodoo guitar hands
The bug carnies sing
the same song
But different as a melody
by children with cancer,
or to brush
her filament wings as angel flutes
that can break the sound mirror
with a cough;
to share a tune
with death,
and kinless troubadours
to light a wick
over their tents
so they can run back
with flashlights

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 


Thank you.
Sorry no critique. Allow me just be a reader and live a fragment of the life you depicted vividly and feverishly


you very much. Couldn't have asked for a better response.

author comment

My pleasure


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