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Tuesday, January 28, 2014

Proverbs 31

 There is a woman I know who is enamoring.
 She is unable to be properly tamed or captured.
  Radiant with a wellspring of intrinsic beauty,
  She is:
  Sex Appeal,
  Glamour,
  And Elegance.

  Her collarbone is sharp--
  Her collarbone is soft.

  Her chipped teeth decay inside her fragile skull;

  Her nose protrudes.
  Dark half-moons rest beneath her eyes.

  Thin lines sprawl and spread across her face.

  Her skin is porous and weathered.

  Tiny shoots of red and blue veins appear like trees across the canvas that is her body. 
 
    Childbirth marks her hips:
    Spells itself across her breasts.

    Her "Ring of Venus" is thorned with scars of sickness and health.
    Her back is blistered.

Freckles kiss her arms,
And neck.

     Her hands are pruny from the watery flower bed that is

     Her garden. 
   
Her smile is
Gapped
And
Gaping.

She stutters when she speaks;
Lisps in her pronunciation.
        Her diction is simple--
        Her diction is complex.

       She states her opinion too boldy;
       She states her opinion too little.

       She is far too gaunt,
       And fleshy.
 
          Her posture slumps into a sunken state;
          She is misplaced.


Age mars itself across her face:
Imprints her cheeks--
Rations her face.

             Her reflection is confident and satisfied.
         She is Wisdom.

         She is not any woman.
         Singularly herself:
         Irregularity,
         And peculiarity
         Are 
                            Her Song.

   "She clothes herself with strength
    And dignity,
    And she laughs at the time to come."