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Untitled Two

Rolling and twirling slivers of pink,
frills and ambiguous contours
made rise, on their rosy
smooth feet, everyone
with an eye to behold as
those with slippers held their frames
still.
Flashes caught only pearls and glistens,
the physical,
standing high and leaping higher;
whispers caught only memories
from the ambrosia seeping from their breath
and twirling breeze.
But as silk slid smoothly, between
the elegance and admiration, between
pink and blue, rose and flesh -
light was absent,
perfume capped -
The sweet stars descended to fallen streets
and reposed while off their tip toes

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