and there she whispers to him
on tiptoes, chilly, pointe-less
and with a smile, she nearly finishes her sentence

after that, the dancing becomes hocus-pocus
                                                       air-stirring the molecules in the shadowhall
                                                       mote whirling

an unfinished sonata

high in the rafters birdsblink, swoopready dropping to circle
raffia wingbeats, a shale-tide sound
feathertips touch, cloudily shrouding

arm~arc finale            
                         they land around her as falling black-silk

he applauds ~ silence snapping
                         the whooooosh of his pulse


4 Responses

  1. nice…very nice…music and movement and the arc of triumph…like a cascade that stutters and stops and then flows again…


  2. Wow. I applaud. Magical writing, a blackbird dress, the sounds of the dance, amazing, beautiful, perfect.

  3. This is amazing, I am totally blown away…..beautiful.

  4. […] Posted on January 25, 2008 by Rose I desire the dance, the you and I. The slow start, the shy glances, the gradually melting of inhibitions. The I that […]

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