Analysis of Division

.......lost in the reflection of her pewter spoon;
Along with the audience of the subway train
/ Hair turned to slivers of cotton/ grey;
/ Eyes that see nothing but distant glares.

Are there only tired days? .....
where the only growth allowed-
are hidden in the crescent moons,
of your fingernails?

Has your request for time fallen
to your rippled knees?
Has your palette
no taste for new seeds?

(She thinks back........
- when the Angel’s Frock -
with garment transparent
as the August heat,
came sailing along the Advent
of the tendril winds;
with the belief, that she could cling
to the flitchings of her curtain sheets)

What? .................
it was only the vibration of the passing train-
whch blindly lifted her fingertips
to the feel of the stainless steel,

- as adrenaline breathed.

...And the sky and the trees, along
with the concrete, converged
to a continuous blur.

She sings the Song of No Where -
among the bleached clouds; between the
loft buildings/ skyscrapers.... retail shops......
(Watch out !– here comes the whipping train!)

She undulates
 – towing her rail car feet -
spreading her yellow teeth on the wheat
of the sun’s quick reflection.

While the corduroy rays spotlight
her stubborn charms;
Sounds echoed and were dismissed
/smoked in the clouds.

She then grabbed for her monocle-
chained like a necklace from her gaped blouse.
(the tired lens – with now
a tired prescription;
which magnified only
what she saw inside:
the cyclops of her every day;
the putrid fairies in their aggregate-
who stole from her metacarpals
and vertebrae.)

She pinned it to her eye- as she struggled
to read the next stop ......
but there was only glare.

Instead, she depended on the station
to be called out ...

The train stopped

The doors opened in synchronocity,

“Division” …. This stop – “Division”

……..She got up ...............

She got up ……….. ...................

.......and the doors closed. ......