Poetry by A.J. Kaufmann

The Prostitute

 

Hopeless drifting into motor green execution
below the pillars of night sky exploding
in black alien empty zooms
circling tense into hordes of stars soothingly
supporting the recovered blue, rust streaked
shades of a prostitute bending
love suddenly stopped and the diamonds of her falling
invaded smoke twisted wreckage minds
preserving the air and humanity
inert, loose, toppling
uniforms of fiction
a thousand blazing sticks stabbing the throat
of the singer
suspended in prostitute’s hands, smile, legs
draining the enemy, struggled paper
playing with us, hand stimulated
plasma and questions on the essence of time
filling the room like cigarette smoke
dragging us down to the feet of the giants
stubborn, drenched in sleep
chill whirled untenanted

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