Gold
- Paul Hawkins
- Apr 26
- 1 min read
Ancient guilt as gilt is shared
before an eon passes
Rubbed from brass
Glass for a dressing room diminished even by one bursting bulb before photographers are there
to measure a distant postured stare of thought that isn’t there.
She knew the thought that would not pass and did not trade her truth for brass. The thought that did not diguise the size to fit the slippers.
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