She is the kind of girl
Whose hips you watch sway,
Whose hair sweeps her back,
Whose knows her name in history.

The corners of her mouth
Are perpetual and unchanging;
Pulled in a taught steady smile
Bearing a daring snarl without exposing any teeth.

Her eyes blink slowly; her chin dips slightly,
Extending her sharp gaze under soft shadows,
Rearing her pupils as the horns of anangry bull,
And bowing her head to be crowned