Dance For Me


Today I asked my poetry to dance for me..
To contort its metaphors into limbs..
To Pirouette(peer o wet) down the lines..
To Assemblé(assam blay) from the page..
Make a Balletomane(bal lay toe mane) of my heart..

Let pen and soul synchronizes with cherry picked harp strings..

I offered my poems the burden of swaying allegory into the prancing footsteps of Anna Pavlova of Anthony Dowell..

Of the Black Swan.. tiptoeing and swirling across the eggshells that triggers the chaos in me..

Today I asked my poetry to dance in my ink as if they were water puddles dripped from the eyelids of cumulus clouds..
Plié (plee ay) in the rain..
Til words and movement Adagio(a·da·gio) to figurative tongue
Take a bow..
Sink into the quicksand of roses heaved at your feet..
But wait until the curtains close to pluck the thorns from your flesh.. to unravel tape from sole..
Then let quivering bones collapse from the exhaustion of tempo..

Now die, softly.. slowly, into the raging chant of "ENCORE"

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