RADIO ANTENNA CHOPSTICKS
PIERCE THE GUNMETAL GREY
A HIBISCUS FRAME
DEFIES THE DYING LIGHT
WHILE THE PIGEONS SCRATCH
AND SCRAPE FOR THE DAYS' REMAINS
"THEY REALLY BUG ME." SHE SAYS
DEFEATED, GLASS-EYED DISDAIN
A CHIN WITH A POSTURE OF IT'S OWN
POINTING AT, OR PERHAPS BEYOND ME