An empty drawer

shut and locked

in an empty hall

waiting at the escalator.

It’s architecturally impeccable

comprehensibly proportional

to any empty room,

proportionally comprehensible.  

Through the gaze of any impeccable prism

her angles are sound

invariably linear.

Her golden ratios are renowned

and envied by all else.

A man approached her in nothing but silk skin

critiquing her with a quiet eye.

He ran his fingers across her face

began tugging on her lip. 

He anchored her over

on two left legs

 letting her fall

as if it was onto on a bed of cashmere and plush.

The man walking on the wall yearned towards another drawer. 

With three legs

 a deep face

embedded under ridges of rugged runs

raked with drowsy autumn tones.

The man wearing nothing but silk skin

 anchored the drawer with his soft speaking foot

he ran his fingers across the drawer’s handle,

it was heavy and full.

The man floated the drawer to the elevator

 at the end of the empty hallway

and ascended with the three-legged drawer.

The empty drawer

shut and locked

in an empty hall

cried

on a bed of cashmere and plush.