Have we come to this? Exhaustion. Ennui as stagecraft:
the calculated cigarette, the slinky hair,
the lissome length of hand stretched out,
the crossed knees laid bare and grazing:
Is this the nouveau riche, the voided minds,
the world of fashion in black tones of sighs?
Is she portraying a tepid inversion –
Michelangelo’s Night – the puckered lips,
the carved look of despair, the serpent’s hair,
the breasts like frightened plums blushing;
the folded globes of her eyes in contemplation
or complacency; and, the other, she seems intent –
her blank stare measuring the temporal emptiness,
the cold loops of smoke above the glass
as if the world were some vast Fortune’s wheel,
and she – the futile victim of a Vampire’s curse.
These are the noseringed diamond girls,
their bronzed leered smiles and ruby lips;
adjusted like those silver sphinxes of the night:
all dressed up in stone memories of Medusa’s fright.
– Steven Craig Hickman ©2014 Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author is strictly prohibited.