dancing witches whose green
glow is caught swirling under
a stubborn cork.
When every dinner party
becomes extinct,
only dark magic will pop those lids.
***
we're stretching our bodies and
imagining the sun,
but what does all that mean?
whose arms are cradling us,
eternity's or now's?
or maybe our mothers's?
***
This dancing party was made of
lights and dreamers.
The dancers are possessed, not
who they were in the womb.
No comments:
Post a Comment