Steffie Looks Down The Corridor Poem by Leslie Philibert

Steffie Looks Down The Corridor



With ice hair
standing still, your head turned,
you are viewed down, reduced

to make you faceless,
curved as a dolphin,
Cressida under neon

watching you watching.
A broken wheel between
two spaces, hanging on

strings. Your eyes are
off the moment;
quiet as Vermeer;

posed at an empty door,
nothing moves.

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