The smoke rises
Tearing these eyes
She sits on the edge of the bench
The mound of her back humped to the sky
As her eyes take in the novel
She sees the fine print
Her eyes intent against non intent curls
She pays no attention to me
Her body so fragile and shrunken
I flex my muscles tight keeping her in
I flex my muscles against themselves
Her body so spared
She has no attention of my writhing pain
Know not how I want to transform
She need not know
Of the burning
Searing
Potato fries
From the simple earth
Basked in sunflower oil
Oregano and rosemary lay noncommittally on textured body
Air pockets filled with salty heat
Simple pleasures from a simple earth
Her eyes limited in distance
Her ears damaged in waves
Her limbs and hip decrepit in time
Her teeth substituted in place
Hot oil festering
Within
But she need not know
She need only know of simple pleasures
Abysmal beauty
Searing
To give her distance, waves, time, place
like
Magic
Searing
To be
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