A Demon In Her Vanity
In the night's harried soliloquy
You tousle your hair and wipe
The miasma of the panthoms'
Breath flushing your pallid face
With such arrogance and grace
A complacence that synergize
With the stellar distractions
That your pristine poise behold,
You smudge the rouge and stains
Of the derided warfare in the world
Of alleys and myriad of empty stations
A fastidious ballet in front
Of the mirror's godly fingers
You grinned, oscillated your lips
Red as the devil swaying its legs
In the inveigling undulations
You whetted your piercing eyes
And fooled yourself again
In the pristine reflection.
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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