Pastels
In the thin space behind eternity
it’s almost time;
tick-tocking for the women who live
in acrylics, water colors and oils
A masterpiece of bare, black
pencil pupils
and crimson crayon lips
whose blood thunders
exposing a blue-haired predator
They fabricate a diamond look,
burrowing into photos.
Beholden to lovers
who appear to take that crap
but mostly just wanting
and waiting.
Ó 1998 Maryann Hazen