wind umbra
Dancers gyrate when the score plays,
like water to the drain whirlpooling,
moving typhoons with their effortless motion.
Familiarity of a stage,
one that many have walked amongst.
Neon lights pointing to the single star of the room,
the nucleolus of the quasar reaps the accolades,
as others follow you on the stage,
just passing asteroids buckled to shooting stars in its direction.
Seats with opera glasses fill the stadium,
the beauty of lightning shows
before the thunderous clap in all directions,
captured in awe,
swaying like aroura in the cold dead of night.
VHS videos spewing cut up black tape,
lottery tickets distributed to each induvial on stage.
It is each piece that makes up a puzzle,
they scatter to claim their prize.
The star tapes each piece to the dancefloor,
sweeping the puzzle into deadly serenity,
every ticket in its hand,
while the rest left in footprints of sand.
trim iris