Thursday Night at the Orchid Room

-harp strings

here the shadows are at ease: waking and sleeping
loomlight through claret-coloured velvet
a silverthread, star-stranded weighlessly twists
arches and furls.
– she wears the dress
and smoke bangles
three of them, ghostmetal – wispkiss her wrist
she sip-sits, yellowfeathers calm. smooth.

somewhere else now

tangle-branched; he
knows things of time
seconds and the arc
of the moon
and of love

he thumb-flicks ash and exhales a perfect smoke ring into the daffodil dawn

she feels him as a fourth smoke bangle
forms
silently
capturing the movement of

a perhaps-breeze . leaves
and the jangle of a dreamthread

(written by Ebby)