Out of their wildly homeworlds the creatures danced,
the forest delude of life.
The fire speaking in a
tongue only they could hear.
On the bark of the trees
they were exposed to their naked shadows.
Then the unified stomping commenced.
Crazy love filled their nostrils on their dirty backs.
Arms circled the ribs and chests.
The smoke shall dwindle just as their
passion and energy.
Morning will come
and again they be cold.
Return to Polis 2011
Return to Poetry and Prose, 2011