The Ballet

Dancers on the road, pulling the magic off the feet,

rising the bottle in the air, crash and burn the hall is lit so sweet,

swinging up and down, shaking the air around with the force of the heavy sweat,

beat the emotion around and cut any sort of past and its threat.

The heart so light, the wings spread in the light end of the wind,

the movement so careful can hear the pretty white light rescind,

all the hopes buttered down to the lanes, took a while to process,

the glass shattered at the moment, the thoughts broke and took a recess.

My call, my taking, living up to the heavy feeling and the bloodshot,

to the pulse of the last few drops, and the head sinking in the pot,

painting the picture beautifully. these thoughts came so randomly,

every page stacked and pressed, blew the faces in a dignified tandem.

The push, drift back and the pull, swinging and panting, drawing heavy air,

pick a fight and drop the coins on the floors, feel her hair,

move her down, to your arms, cradle her to her grave,

run the hands, cover the holes, and blind the eyes, don’t be afraid.