Thursday, April 1, 2010

Staccato

All he has to do is stare
and stare he did.
She became a mermaid of the clouds, swimming between the zodiac motifs,
carefully writhing to avoid the afterglow of his stellar glint.

But stare he did
and she fell to the ground, the tongues of his heat licking at the frost fences
she erected against his attack.
Fleeting smiles, blinking fires—devouring her shell, engulfing rationality.

And stare he did,
for again she was naked, her senses haywire.
Fly. Look down. Fall.
An endless waltz it was, swaying to the do-re-mi of their hearts.

Oh, stare he did,
and she stared back—
self-flagellating souls, she discovered they were,
the only humans in a dance hall of paperboard couples.

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