Final Act In Paris Poem by Kirby Wright

Room smells of pinot and sex.
The human morning bangs itself.
Last night was first touch.
Rue Saint-Martin is a rage of wheels.

The human morning bangs itself.
Dreams break the lights.
Rue Saint-Martin is a rage of wheels.
White petals melt over bricks.

Dreams break the lights.
Survival leaks to tragic.
White petals melt over bricks.
Warriors erupt from the carpet.

Tulips bloom red in a vase.
Last night was first touch.
Girl becomes her mother at dawn.
Room smells of pinot and sex.