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RUSTY SCALE
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2003 Poetry The woman with the rusty scale
is working on her intuit.
Destructing her is the smell of
the air that suffocates her will.
The shade of the dark envelops her iris
nothing but total blackness springing
palpably across her vision of perception.
Standing proud and confident
is the object of her scale.
Wearing impudent leers; he begins
to sing his opus of fibs.
She listens intently, striving to discern
a speck of candor in between his pauses,
but nothing seems audible enough
to better her judgment except
the howling of a wolf.
And darkness dethroned luminosity
He walks freely, spitting and mocking
then he closed the door behind him.
