I'm having trouble getting anything started today. In other words, I'm hating everything I write today. I've scrapped more than I've managed to find useful. I don't even like this. It's from today's Poetic Asides prompt to write a "complex" poem.
A complex subject
The sun is making her squint.
She cannot keep her head straight
enough, cannot get the corners
of her mouth to turn up. The wind
cuts through the trees, stings her
neck. She is not good at posing.
The camera records misfires over
and over, shows a smirk, a detached
posture. A forced embrace broadcasts
more melancholy, she waits for the
session to end, waits for her chance
to retreat back into shadows.