The comrade

There was a woman
who was insincere
and covered her lies with
lipstick and fine clothes
and slogans for the masses
who followed along the way;
and when her words wore thin
and they grew hungry
at the harvest,
murmurs arose and
disquiet came to pass;
and when her laugh at last
fell brittle upon their ears,
and the mascara dried on
her final velvet tricks,
she called a great assembly
and spoke with great regret
about their failings,
and wept a final time,
and turned in epic sorrow
and took her leave,
and snakes with honey eyes
crawled through the
buttons of her garments
to the floor.

© 2009