She’s Going To Vegas

Sitting alone gazing at clouds
Silk dress pulling at seams
Of wild patterned silk
An excess of cleavage
Presenting her breasts as evidence
Of the glorious history of fertility
A vision back to excitement
Of the delicious taste of skin.
Pathos of tense rouge and a tight fisted smile
Pitching out disbelief of her cells progress
Disappearing past the
Explosiveness of claiming her life
Pushing out even for a moment the
Insight blossoming late past use
The glimpse of richness adorned with
Uncomfortable combustive laughter
The vortex of emptiness
Sucking all into herself
Hearing her heart beat
Clinging
Saying I am here and I am here
And I can be
I can be