Susan

Sentry

She is something particular. Not any other thing.
There in sharp relief. Relief. Yes.

And her edges. Ah! Her edges –
distinct in inky silhouette –

they stamp themselves on that space,
shape the abyss and make it plain.

Her hair pours off her head.
Her eyes blaze out.

She moves like black mercury.
Swift, graceful, agile,

she is inescapable
and menacing. Stamping,

waving, seeing and blazing,
she is a fearless presence. Yes. Fearless.

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