Sashay
to chasse
the
heel’s followed close
by
feet that flow—
so
smooth, it seems
as
if the toes really do
float
Antigone,
a girl,
condemned
to death
in
a tragic display,
disobeyed
the
edict of a king, which
forbid
the flames to encompass
the
air, avoiding the traditional
sense
of burial…
Toggled
in immaterial surrounds—
you
peer the sky for answers found,
and
while minutes fleece the glass it’s
sand,
down stream tears to salten your
already
softened cheeks—twas when hazed
eyes
did glimmer, a reflection of a sinner—daft
as
the street kids would call, scaling long the rails
beside
that radiating hall…
In
seconds sweetly tripping breath, your blood curdled
but
not cold—for destiny had, in such a somber sequence
of
might, may have offered you a second chance—as here the glass
of
emptiness wince would not, and there, the ledge unseen
appeared
as clear as dry your voice had been…and sidling
across
you’re form inched slow, until opened a concealing grate, where frame and pane
connect, but are not the same, but enough is much for foot to foot to enter
most forward
of
arch to heel, and into safety’s unsure blanket once more…revealed
First
you drank your thirst aright, and then…then
you
joined your truth there at dawn
after
sashaying deep
until
the night
was all but
gone
