..
He’s got her swooning
again, dipping her toes
in horizon dark, slow
disappearing and playing
her part in this star-stung
waltz.
He’s got her waning
again, making less of her
-self by degrees, crescent
-cutting tangled trees and
startled sky in her own scythe
ska.
He’s got her playing
again, all silver smile and hop
-scotch golden feet, gibbous
rhythm and sacred beat
full of razzmatazz and all that
jazz.
He’s got her praying
again, all clasped-stone
hands and quiet heart,
stilted rhyme and long
slow start and aching
blues.
..
In November, we poem.
fabulous
WOW, this is stunning, mesmerizing.