Poem: Soulless

Scorch
(04.22.06)

She rides
on the back
of fireflies,
hitching
from one
to the other
throughout
her

nightly
ten to five
job of selling
tunes
only roses
that bloom
in these hours
could hear.
Like those
that sprung

on city side-
walks, strongly
perfumed, red-
petaled and bare.
Waiting beside
lampposts for
fireflies
to come, slow
down, extend

a wing, burn
again.


~ Soulless can be found at Unguarded Utterance.