urvile

Our fingertips touch,
as you glide down
the stairs
while you
say
"All the way".

Empty spaces expand,
brushing at us,
invading the space between,
keeping
us apart
in the wrong way.

Our bodies sing our private songs,
about forests green,
electricity,
embraces,
and needs,
that do not go,
away.

My dance is a spastic strut and fret,
a walking shadow, upon a stage,
full of sound and fury.
but I will continue
all the way.

Your dance is a lone one,
in a dark place
your chest containing a
gentle heart,
radiating a pure light
and lust for stillness...

There are clockworks
that drive you,
not always on
your own accord

Unwillingly you
cast warped shadows
upon the firmament
that
arouse you.

All the way.