Silver displayed her, and she was pleased with her mild way:
the wrists—thin, pale stripes transparent without weight.
Her precise, metallic touch little by little rides runny as she traces.
Ferris wheels ride loop-the-loop around her bare axis arms;
Shiny, sticky charcoal curls of her mane bound and rebound.
Overcast eyes see nothing!
Her dry throat sucks and spits air in her dynamic surprise.
There is abruptly a future, a spill of rude insights and wide assumptions.
A striped window makes her a slick zebra
with natural bumps of pallid gloss.
Her creaks crack musically sweet in tune with the tugs of her thought
and the tow of her heart.
His hostile bulk.