(Still Life) Aphrodisia
There’s a dent upon the pillow where you lay
An aphrodisia by Faberge
There’s a panty hose that’s laddered on the chair
And the biting chill of winter in the air
There are silver cobwebs dancing in the sun
Faded jeans with stitches that have run
There’s a print of Van Gogh hanging in the hall
And flaking paint that’s peeling off the wall
There’s a silver thread of morning in the air
There are footsteps without courage on the stair
There’s a shadow fading slowly in the sun
There is mercy in the barrel of a gun
Whistle
