Mirrorball


 

The bandleader
vice-clamps her
sycophant baton.
 

We stand, meringue stiff,
as full dance cards
applaud discordant bows.
 

Cacophony fades,
the glitter-globe
grinds to a fault;
 

contorted shadows
of our last dance
cast in graceless silhouette.
 
 

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Filed under Free Verse, Poetry

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