Woe Begone

Dance tonight with sister moon, her shadow sharp, her ache, her empty room
Live tonight for what it’s worth, for the chips and cracks that bend your silver spoon
In mirrors gleam the blades that cut the morning from its tomb of night
Set it free upon the day like dusty wings that flap hapless toward the silver light

Dance the blood magnetic, the height that chases shadows from the mind
The epicentre of seismic shift where fossils sift the flesh once more to find
And digging down while looking up you see that you are blind to cry aloud
And withdraw your hand from the flame that promised warmth within the cloud

Here be dragons, here begone, here beyond, here the corners creep
And the heads roll slow from side to side but do not lose a moment’s sleep

September 2007

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