And the evening came
with its early air of haughtyness.
Red blue flashes of light
ignited the red blue presence of life
in the damp street
And the housewife packed herself
with cheap powder of beauty
and of bruises.
The turmoil of night awaited her
And as if driven by practice
the sad moon peeped through
the dark window sill
of her kitchen
into the hollow
of earthen pots
hoisted on the kerosene stove
which revealed
almost nothing
except for the
stems of
a wretched body
And a tormented soul.
