she’s glancing at the reflection <br />in the mirror, at the same place <br />(from the beginning of time and paint) , <br />holding her images even when she’s not <br />there. merging with an old, fat sofa <br />on three legs and an artificial one made <br />of a few criminals and one dictionary <br />growing thicker with dust and thicker skin <br />from fresh remorse. while putting on <br />a new pair of nylons, she’s inhaling <br />another chapter of a soap opera life. <br />armed with blood-red lipstick and a twenty <br />dollar bill, she is out for bingo.<br /><br />Ivona Sophia<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-wild-woman/
