the ruffles of a can-can

courtesan, the tragic

trance of a Cio-Cio San,

flaps its arms, spins

like a dying swan,

as it holds on to some

notion of permanence

in the vertigo of stairs,

the sheer drop

of parapet to the empty

pavement below,

under the blurred

diagonal between

light and shadow.

Thus it stuns us

totally as it furls

the mind back into

its folds of brightness

intensely superfluous

in the sun.

 

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March 27, 2012

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