lingering at the edge of the light
all red and sanguine and quiet and decorated
on a purple divan with others of her kind
and some they were very young
as if seemly additions to a sad proscenium
of actors whose fates
were decided well beyond the directions
of their better angels
the face of the eldress was powdered pink and grey
her eyes pale like the remains of the sky before dusk
her lips cherise
in some mockery of seduction itself
the youngest lay cradled in the arms of a visitant
from some other planet
as a crescent moon cradles the desert night
and afterwards in the silence
where there is no need for words
a fan twirled above
for to cool the passion
Flynnpoetry 