Charcoal on white lace

The difference I have found between social classes, and skin colour in some countries I have traveled to has been a tremendous one, and this poem reflects that...

 

The clouds roll in like clockwork

Lids close over dismay.

Diamonds squeezing shut

And leaking juices from the paupers lemons.

 

Dinner party-‘unsuccessful’ was the verdict.

Ruffles and ruffles, engulfing bodice,

upon this plush lounge.

Dainty china smashes.

It must be the end of the world.

 

Black-gloved hands

Hide angry eyes of this ‘absolute disaster.’

That they are sure to soon forget.

 

Maids flurry, weaving in between

A maze of antique wonders.

Not flailing...graceful dancers,

cleaning something

that is already clean,

with hands that are tainted filth.

The ballerinas sigh

Pleasure inside,

as a night breeze fills their lungs.

 

The dancer with the fairest dress,

and the wrinkles wrapped in dollar bills...

she stands from the couch,

so she can cast her diamonds down.

 

She closes the window.

The swirling dancers

They clear the way, she walks away,

to greet another meaningless day.

 

 

 

Reviews

[Aeternal Oceanfire]

Gorgeous! The pace was well kept and the writing deep.

[...]

. very vivid with a stunning end ...
. you're a very gifted poet ...

Wow, deeply emotional piece.

loved the imagery in this. Awesome!