Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Austin 2005, I miss it.



The dancers in the center
Drew everyone's attention:
New clothes, new beaus, new shoes
The perfect couples in their rounds.

But I saw plague attendants
Quarantined in crow suits.
To dance around carnations
With long masks made of velvet.

The Black Death doesn’t scare me;
I still want what they had:
A crow suit and a mask,
Your hand wrapped firm in mine.

I dreamt you every night.
We danced, and I knew how.
We talked across the distance,
And kissed each other gone.

I left alone as always
With dancers in my dreams,
An orchid in my hand,
And tears swelled in my eyelids.

I folded up the orchid
And dropped my bitter tears
Inside the Song of Songs
To this day I keep closed.

The orchid is long withered.
The dance is long forgotten.
The tears are grains of salt;
I wait for you no longer.

I still don't have a crow suit.
I never learned to dance.
Still now I know my love
Could never be so awkward

And silent
To still be.

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