Behind Her Sunglasses

Behind her sunglasses
hues of maroon
lace and veil her eyes  
as cloud-threads over the moon
I hear them humming, looping~
a dissonant, syncopated tune

I close my eyes and imagine hers
the way one reads a room— 
each gaze, a parenthesis
each glisten, a perfume
of the fruits cherished and tasted
then pressed and dry as a bloom