Three angles on the dance

Are
the circumstances
as ghastly as

you
think? Or
is it sun

melting
all to
flesh? Or somehow

I’ve
become cadaverous
on a table.

//

Death
has no
emotion. This is

what
we twigged.
It’s the music

of
the rays
past a state

of
the heart
into the dance.

//

Love
we shared
accordion, strings. Darkness

dangles
its allure.
Supreme court of

magic
its propulsion
where, ever thankful

lights
out territory
of the further.

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