dancing with veils,
I dropped them
one
~by
~~one
~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~~
~ ~ ~~~
by–
well–
some were ripped away
(inveigled violation)
and some were
trod upon,
(and went missing thereafter)
and some were too thin
(to qualify as veils)
and were mist
nonetheless
and some floated away,
(caught in the tango of divestment)
and some weren’t veils at all, but ephemeral spirit
(disguised ascots)
which I
so vain
didn’t think I needed anymore, until finally
all were spun and sung and flung and to my
sheer amazement
I only then noticed there was nothing of
me
left…
just a bundle of rags that seemed
threadbare, in the glare
(of spotlights lit too long)
shedding detail, and
sequins, and
~silvered threads~
in tinseled drops.
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