Her lips zippered like brass knuckles
Her eyes reach with shallow wells
Like a transcendental fishing lure
She seems to sew ideas like fabric gurneys
Her hair thinning with another worry
She gropes at imagination’s vice grip

Piercing her thoughts with immortality
As another icon of life’s servitude fades
The presence unknown by the vaults of intimacy
Lurks around the chilling vespers
Where the shadows whispers in ebonic unisons
And then it happens…

She finally realizes that she is wasted away …inside
Like those memories inside the unknown photographs
A cool crisp moment of never been,
and never have been,
and never have happened,

And more importantly, she realizes, this thing like permuting poison
That dwells inside her core living and breathing
like the virginal womb of wombs seeking birth and conception

She lights up inside her soul with this undisclosable reckoning
About the moment that never was, and never had been,
Never having have happened,
and more importantly, never ever will…

Poetry by: Victoria L. McColley