A fillet of hips.
A pink tongue for independence.
A spiked heel causing three-quarter mishaps.
A stomach in an eyebrow raised.
A hyper-extended crimp of hair, like Streisand on drugs.
Jenny and Ben are getting it on in her smooth, black Benz.
Boot polishers all gummy and tar chasing the flashbulb, but! like
Zadie told Alex to say; “I prefer to think of it as a business.” Amen.
Cinzia Cavallaro is an Australian poet.