Wednesday, October 11, 2006


by Charmaine Frost

art by Goya

How they surge forth - a thousand arms
writhing, dark palms imploring,
wet brows quivering, fat parched lips
wincing, bellies jiggling, toes
pattering forth in a toneless roar,
silk sashes shuddering; brown chests
pulsing, rocking, swaying to ancient beats;
saffron hair-flowers spinning up, up
through buzzing moist air; loosened petals
tumbling, swirling down, down like confetti down

while the thick oak stage with iron
wheels groans steadily towards, over
them; crushes each adorer as the flame
red eye of the Wooden One with steel-
gray cheeks and knotting snake arms gazes
down, mute and unblinking.

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