Red Gouache-with Grace

Dark silken petticoat sky beneath a mascara moon    
and the clouds unfolding of a farthing candle    
in my wilting eyes listening to the gait of thunder    
screaming a gothic girdle piking red gouache    
in my wilting eyes as my quill hyperventilates    
with a careless shoestring of ink    
   
   
Mourning dead muses    
as wilted as a baby breath on the width of ether    
as lost as puffs of dandelion dreams    
dry as scents of yesteryear's decadence    
useless, mere cough on cat whiskers    
thus watching flows of ink    
green eyed