Wednesday, November 16, 2016
She emerged from clouds of hairspray,
gold of her hair in radiant array
as jeune Deneuve midst parapluies,
a Lucrezia d'Este parting rough seas.
Time's coarse hand dulls lively sheen
and pans such splendor to the iron mean.
So cruel the curl unwinds to limp tangles
mournful skies rain tears of Angels.