At the moment she thought
she had reached the apex
of beautiful,
she lit every burner
and eclipsed
city night.
He veered
her way. He stayed.
We have no idea how the years work
in our favor.
At the end
of the platform is a sign
that says
You talk,
we listen.
Together we survive.
Eyesight weakens and vision
grows sharper.
She wears the powder blue dress
and smokes a joint
tilting back her gold
mane, a flashing howl
against the open chord
he plays with bare knuckles
and a mouth full of glass.
Hearing deafens as perception
cleaves lyric
from lie.
Shannon E. Williams 
Love the last 3 lines. And the stanza before that. It’s all stunning but those particular images really stood out. Such beautiful things you do with words!
Goodness, thank you! Sometimes when I’m not being stubborn, words just come. Less doing and more letting.
Gosh your imagery is so striking, all of it – but particularly the second last stanza. I’m there, smelling the smoke in the room, hearing the chord. Love your poetry, it’s so ‘unforced’ and unflinching because of it.
Thank you. I appreciate you saying it seems unforced because it’s anything but. It sure takes a lot of wrangling to capture sensations and images using 26 measly letters.