Their shadows stretched,
bodies pulled by light, their endlessness a path
into the horizon,
these are girls on circuits, bridal, veiled-women
on a continuous course
towards infinite
happiness.

Their minds are tredmilling, a melody from
a victrola, the thread is their
mainstay, the matra their anchor,
trapped women drowning in thier
vanishing,
in their own diminishment,
countless hours spent within themselves,
pacing the floorboards, pacing their guilt.....

06/10/2004

Posted on 06/10/2004
Copyright © 2026 Vikki Owens