Illuminated Feminine

Watershed tear
and broken fingers
and smiles. Hearing
comes natural to her.
When she says she's all
ears she means it and cries
in the night, gripping your empty
hand in her empty hand like clinging
like grim death. She ages in time, growing
old and wise, becoming taller, stronger, brighter
like stars like sun. She gleams porcelain
white, sprouts the wings of an angel
and flies away, wanting everything
like lacking like nothing.