Dry Thoughts, Spoken Aloud

“I can think back on that time as a stay
As a pale thing that tightens and sits
In dark corners, but that comes to play
With us, us who complicate matters with wits
That cramp styles, that lurch in fits
To dances, to songs of long forgotten comedy:
Of ballets, of dancers, of she who flits
Across broken screens that showed us tragedy:
Of people and laughs and… an eye
A yellow eye that gazed out at smart
Scenes of ancient lawns that would cry
Like broken dreams and like the dark hearts
Of things that sit and moan –
That sit like a smooth, soft stone.”

To the Dance

Foot-steps fall
Down patched streets that
Wind around
Quiet homes where the
Bright light of
Snapping fires casts rays
On elegant elms
That squat in well-
Pruned gardens. While

The sudden pat pat
Of feet echo and I
See, faintly,
Her dancing with

Posted as part of an interesting prompt night at dVerse, where we are directed to create a poem using only 44 words, and that must contain the word, “dance.”