Satin suffused with
the scent of flowers, a
garment spun from the
spray of a waterfall
spills down her body
and puddles at her feet,
limbs of congealed milk,
silky soles in silver shoes.
In winter air she breathes summer
clouds; they rise from beneath the
pearls, the pearls which rest on a
bed of white sand, against which
the frothy waves of her laughter
crash; from the seas of enamel
shimmering under the light of the
stars in her eyes. Blanche.
Beautiful. Radiant with purity,
made from the substance of angelic
voices.