Asia Poem by Robin Bennett

Master artist, I must whisper aloud-
This canvas will need a miracle to;
Flourish in a french museum; so dear sir,
Please paint my dead beauty upon me again.

Two months ago, I bathed in luxury-
Bubbles of colors, names rooted in sin,
Proudly dressed in hues of sex kitten,
And a most revealing number in totally nude.

As my stomach churned with the water
spiraling down the drain, I noticed that
reflection of me again. Easily fixed with a
match. "Smoke and mirrors, baby" you once said.

I recognized the growing distance between us-
You stood in one lane, I stood in the center of traffic;
Further away than Asia, I found a well worn Atlas,
to see if I could find you, like the needle in the haystack.

As quickly as you appeared-
A tiny magician made you disappear;
I'm still paying dearly for that trick.
Broke in more ways than one.

I'm have a front row ticket to sit on a rock-
Peering at that monstrosity named Atlantic;
Wearing her white caps, she stands between things,
Well, maybe the water was just too cold for us anyhow.