The Couch In Front of the Dance Floor

There isn't a breath
in the air that could lift

my hand from yours, here,
in the warm hug of a cat-

hat with mittens attached.
The frantic swarm of lights

likes you especially. I see
the way they rip you apart,--

much like the way you would imagine--
a sea of angry fireflies

tearing a paper doll to shreds
like slow piranhas. Won't you

follow me out here? The air
couldn't lift my hand from yours,

and the moon sets
a nice, easy mood,

licking our heels as we unravel
into the cough of night.

Reviews

[Emily B]

and a time to dance, i will try to match my steps to yours, and keep good time

isn't the music lovely?

[tressa]

beautiful. this reads itself to me...