In the corner <br />of the dark hall <br />leans a silhouette. <br /> <br />Against the wall <br />it sits with <br />a cigarette in hand. <br /> <br />The graceful outline <br />of the whisp of smoke <br />from its lips <br />is roving about its head, <br />directionless. <br /> <br />It angles its disflavoured frown <br />toward me <br />and I see its face. <br /> <br />He is handsome. <br />He is young. <br />He is troubled. <br /> <br />His silhouette <br />makes rigid curves <br />and I turn away.<br /><br />Erica Francis<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/his-silhouette/
