In the Moon and Life

Phantoms awash with feelings
of half remembered gratitude
Like rattling dice in a gold embroidered bag
to hear that faded

clinking sound. Glasses held by the woman
With the golden necklace framing
her neck, throwbacks
to Cleopatra, speaking with her Anthony.
The lips curl upwards,
The hand on the arm,
And she’s away in the

dancing crowd. Swirls of gold,
A shower of sparks like fire breathers,
Oranges and reds blending
into one light that bleeds
a white too hot for the eye.
She acts shy now, when Prince
Charming holds out his hand.
The carriage awaits, but she’s
not playing ball.

The wine is scintillating,
A latent tinkling that ripples
down the throat, a slow churn,
a slight burning in the chest
and the rest fades into the night,
A frightless fest of phantoms
In a lush world of their own.

The End

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