A Waltz (Unmentionables, 6)

* one *

Blows cascade through
drumbeats and horns,
polished in memory
like precious stones,
hard and bright.
Arms flung up,
freeze in place,
harden. Stone like,
they feel nothing
until they break.

* two *

Falling, falling, falling,
until falling is
the natural order,
so much so
that I sleep
through the fall,
through the landing,
curling in midair
to land comfortably
like a cat,

on the floor.
The rumbling voice
is unheard, part
of my dreams.
The heavy feet
climb creaking stairs
translates only as
rhythms and movements
of distant peoples
dancing in darkness.

It isn’t until
knotty arms scoop
me up, disturbing
my slumber, that
I begin to
struggle, crying out,
“No, no, no,”
and then curl
back to sleep,
where I started.

* three *

This old body
aches, learning again
the value of
what works well.
In my dreams,
thoughts spin, splinter,
and spin again.
Above my head,
arms curl, hands
flicker like candles,

small bright flames.
A whirling dervish
spins and spins,
dancing like Francis,
off the edge
of a cliff
without falling,
dancing back from
clouds to land.
His back arches,

so his face
can look up
at the heavens.
Arms rise, fall.
Hands paint air,
like sharp downdrafts
in a tornado,
calling blue skies down,
raising blue waters up
to fall home.

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3 responses to “A Waltz (Unmentionables, 6)

  1. Interesting words – expected to feel the pulse of the waltz (I do see the threes)

  2. Pingback: Unmentionables (The Series) | Rosefire Rising

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