Shall we dance?
He whispers from my shoulder, a stance
he has grown accustomed to, as I have
not yet figured out how to bid him go.
I breathe low,
but he doesn’t hear, too busy crooning
in my ear of the sin
-chronization of clock and crow.
Shhhh. Just sway,
he pleads I stay, perhaps settle in
for just one more song.
I can’t help but say, as each
dark syllable hums along.
mindlovemisery bids we have a chat with our passenger (dark or otherwise.)