of moons, minuets,
and madness

the waltz of time has fewer ripples
than the calamity of youth

there is much to remember
and little to miss

except the key to everything
and even then, it’s nice to know
that one exists

i have a dancing map,
you know, the kind that shows
where to place your feet

two pair speckled across the page
in a sneeze of pattern
meaning nothing without music

i’m always so busy listening
i forget to follow directions
until i am left alone, arms flailing
on the opposite side of the room

this is the dance i was born to do
not the wallflower so much as the floor
each step you take leaves an imprint
and each night i crack the code
of your travels

i could follow you then
find my way home or at least
back to bed

but i have bells on my ankles
and this tattered ancient skirt
and the moon plays an old piano song
with her broken, bony fingers

i am night and you are shadow
turn and spin
turn and spin

i need the light of stars
upon my skin

.

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.

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Linking up with the fabulous dVerse poets for Open Link Night – join us

 

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