The dimple in her elbow,
More hollowed by her flesh
Bulging on her upper arms,
The muscles on her hip,
Crippled by tight blouse,
To pinnate down below,
And the sturdy nape,
Under her thick plait of mane
Falling like the trunk of an
elephant,
She showed her back
And tormented me to rush
Forward to ogle her face.
Her face was out of grace,
Those parts lost their base.
Without a face, there’s no
grace.
21.10.2000
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