skirt wrapped night

i think i know. but i don't.
i am tried and best and blue,
vanquished in the moth
flutter of dim bulbs
smoking hot. red. then arcs
yellow,
blended colours
strewn across the ceiling
where the ants crawl.
backwards.
into

 

night, with dreams
haunting:

 

a beautiful woman
dancing on the shore,
the shore where once
you pressed your toes
into the sticky sand,
come pale from the waters
lapping tongue.

 

loved her in the velvets,
the crimson iris of love,
those blasé colours
thrown on like a lumpy sweater.
you, i, those who seek...
they drown to watch,
to see her twirl--
 
a skirt wrapped against the night.