Woman walking towards me in the eyes, then proceeds into the
sunset. Great—big—gorgeous warehouse that’s boarded-up lies beside us. Pipes and
vines wrap around like thick anaconda through
the windows. Boarded-up lonesomeness,
so-beautiful-could-dream-of, that’s getting demolished. Woman walking towards me arcs like fluid over
the platform, makes the place an aqueduct instead of a warehouse. She is leapfrog,
She is refraction. She is circumference wrapped
around the sunset in a pinkesque transposition of stillness.
Michael Grahlfs is an MFA student in poetry at Rutgers-Newark. Posted April 2008.
