Praxitella
Ample fella
Dynamist
Kissed by your own imagination
Kissed as a mistress
Kissed by your monumental sculptor
Beyond existence
Enlisted
All fingers fisted
Kissed by your picture
Your picture as a writer
Your writer as a picture
No wonder that you missed her
Kissed her like a sister
Realism
On society’s cubist’s blister
But the lines
They would not, could not go away
The lipstick
The saddened eyes
The emphasised thighs
With steely wrists
Gestures which suddenly kissed
Oh how much you must have missed her
Hair cropped
Shaped
From some pyramid scripture
No joy portrayed
Whoever was
The lear who kissed her
Tapping of the finger
Splinter
Through the window
My oh my
He almost missed her
Looking for her sister
Now you sit
In the dance club
Christ’s entry into Jerusalem
Praxitella
Invaded on Jacob Kramer’s
The Day of Atonement
