Bus Stop Angel

She leaned in close;
Her lips aglow with gloss.

Tipsy, yes.
Balance askew.
Legs almost akimbo.
Might get there if the night
Went further.

I could smell the wine:
Honeyed; deliciously vulgar.
From a country newly minted;
Desperate to get into market.

Felt the swish of feathers
Before the unfurling
Of this past midnight,
Bus stop angel.
My allergy to feathers
Eventually subsided.

She was a tub of sweetness.
All smiles; innocent
As she leaned closer still.
Innocent as she whispered
Her armour-piercing words;
Fit for a haiku:
‘You’re quite ugly, aren’t you?’

Hassan Abdulrazzak

If you have any comments on this poem, Hassan Abdulrazzak would be pleased to hear from you.