Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Not Roses and Tears

A lady in red dances on your grave

Her bare feet are sore and dirty, but you…you are dead

Can you feel her twirling, leaping, rolling on the grass above you?

She seems exuberant that you can no longer move

Flailing arms, kicking legs, she snaps her head at the moon

It is all sinewy muscles stretching and retracting with beautiful tension

So quiet you can hear her joints singing

Is it cold down there?

1 comment:

Anonymous said...