311 Van Meter
for dorm room stim dancers in past and present tense
I am dancing among the abandoned things – this lonely white concrete not quite covered by gaudy art rock posters as the jilted wind billows the Indian elephant tapestry, disturbs curls of frangipani incense dark floral musk drifts over coeds by the apple trees under the ample mystery of branches I sway with the funereal music omnipresent as ocean in this landlocked valley-- Bands with ancient instruments and literary names Dead can Dance This Mortal Coil heavy, portentous somber keyboards swelling voices undulating in arcane language My limbs drift somnolent, serpentine to the throb of drums, the beseeching of violins while the candle flame writhes in the open window while the shadows slide along rippling mystery while in some otherworld the dorm noisily exhales I am a temple dancer my arms aloft on liquid sound my bare feet landing delicate as bells I am gliding in a stately pavane with no tryst partner but my own shadow cast upon fabric and wind
