Poem-a-Day, Entry 314--

Unapproachable.

Black hair stands lithe

      on street corners,

   lined in red lights

           and highlights blue,

     gold streaks along hips

                    and lips that flash

             in the city sleep of night;

     sleek against the chill,

          worn in a slit that skin forgot--

     and as the world turns

                 she turns,

        ever away towards
   
            unreachable starlight,

     falling across the faceless,

            across the faceless world,

     brushed aside,

  and blinding.