dancing women

Posted: July 13, 2009 in Poetry
Tags: , ,

dancing women in my head —
but some people call them poems
when they’re only coquettes and teasers,
wayward ladies with torn warm lace —
play, please play on my canvas,
on fading stages of thought and exhaustion —
pirouette on the edges of my mind,
rub against the tip of my tongue and
tickle yourselves on my fingers,
slide down the shaft of my pen
and stop haunting me
to write just one more thing
before the lights leave us all.

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