With the confidence of a bullet she enters,
liquid bronze,
a sculptor's prayer
her hips shake off the chill of the mold
and the despair from my eyelids.
In the intersection of her legs
I seek resurrection
In her enigmatic waistline
a handhold.
Incensed by the colorless sky
she grasps the butter knife
and threatens to murder
a slice of toast
after knocking the glass of milk
from my knee.
Then she sits and stares for hours
at the blank pages of her smile.
J. R. Salling is an antiquarian bookseller specializing in the history of science and medicine, a fact sometimes reflected in his written work, more often not.