there was no deity in her toes
or mystical magic,
brazen eccentricity,
alcohol infused depravity
clung like smoke
that became exhausted on breath,
the morbid look of reality
as being human is to dance
bare splayed white thigh flesh
promise of midnight feast
fulgent in face
he wished to grasp her now
be away upon a tram
tearing worsted tights
patched with careful hand
lamplit ombres chinoises
concavity of upturned behind
receiving wild attention,
she has him as a pale
pierrot languishing on soft words
and gentle caress
having seen the kaleidoscope
and been within pink basket
away with shallow shadows
to find his way home,
naked on sheets tugged and messed
alone
internal orchestra played on
stood upon her rug
once vibrant
and danced again
for herself this time,
watched only by flickering
wax candles
toulouse lautrec
velvetmedia 