a
dancer in a grave robber’s dream cast shadows on walls
in the wake of her seam, a whirl of serpentine fire licks flames
her skin glows like bone scraped, below as above scorched
earth smokes and mirrors darkened skies, ominously boiling
mists of mission, yet, another hole to plot and loot of bone and marrow
soul be damned in broader schemes, what’s another dance
a foxtrot by moonlight, there was always to be a last dance of the bones
with the dancer on the barrow, in the bone robber’s dream
a heap of sand for daisies, a patch of gravel for a rosebush
a mound to bed a garden, back home, making science of man
saving extra pennies for that inevitable rainy day,
when the bones shall speak where they lie, and ask to dance
!gda
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