wait to see
curve and rhythm,
the body inseparable
from the air, the stage falling
from beneath to make way for the feet turning
on point like the end of a brief and passionate argument
when ex-lovers decide
to dance
once
more.
curve and rhythm,
the body inseparable
from the air, the stage falling
from beneath to make way for the feet turning
on point like the end of a brief and passionate argument
when ex-lovers decide
to dance
once
more.
a fouetté en tournant made of words!
ReplyDeletereminds me...
ReplyDeleteThe Last Dance
A slow, building waltz
pauses outside my bedroom door,
the crescendo knocking politely
at the base of my spine.
Remembering the way
your back said goodnight,
for once graceful
as you walked away from me.
The floor retains fleeting heat,
your scent drifts across the highway
through my half-open front door
as I flick ashes into the night air.
Again, settling like dust
on a forgotten shelf,
I fall into a hollow, empty bed,
check, but not check mate, tonight.
For whatever reason, I'm not updated when someone comments on here, so I was wonderfully surprised to see this.
ReplyDeleteInspired poetry being left at all corners... this is a world that I like very much.
And it is very beautiful, Julie, thank you for leaving it for me to see.
You're welcome. Thank you for inspiring me to leave it.
ReplyDelete<3