fall fresh sun beams
on ceramic features
of carved irony
warm the deadened
impulse to breathe

green grass grows
on the other side
of the world
we desensitize the cells
until growth is abstract
feeling obsolete
we steal false smiles

and so standing
in the mire
of dirt and secrecy
shame skirts the issue
of my two feet

beautiful woman
they say
look at you…

Tags: elizabeth clift, poetry, women