Lunch Break

 
Born deaf. Talks funny;
she's drowning on syllables
that she can only feel.

She was an owl
in another life, or world.
We've never spoke;
she doesn't speak much
and it's better that way.

Her cambered back is precise,
allowing glory to bulge everywhere
as she walks out of herself;
confident and timid.

Razor eye for colours
and always smells how she looks:
enchanting yet unconquerable

and when she smiles.



When she smiles
the world dies, disappears.
The most astral voice imaginable
could only befoul this.

All of mankind before and after her
are marred.
God's very own caryatid in motion
and he dooms each man
who surveils her long enough
to see the earth languish around her.