Galatea

She tilts her head;

Tumbling to swimming-

Cyanotype cyborg, 

strolling in the syrupy eve, 

blending with the smokeless indigo-

dressing her titanic limbs 

slipping into knotted fishnets

Dusk-busking stray bitch,

cognate to the mould- 

crasser than the cold,

slashing her sides 

with every passing car.

Spidery hair splinters,

pricking skin,

 crawling in;

Treacle down

Velvet- blue insides- 

Dance macabre of the ores

Steel aortas to her core.