Dance Routine
He's blowing soft, perfect bubbles
next to a lamppost until he can hear the soft tap
of ballet flats behind him.
He takes the string of glowing Christmas lights
off his back.
An intersection on a deserted street,
streetlight saying hello to nothing.
Two overlapping shadows stand there, waiting.
Under the blood-red sky there are more footsteps
and a small plastic stick clatters
to the ground, a sound that rings loud
in the silence.
copyright Maya Ganesan, 2009
(I thought I'd share something that's absolutely captivated me lately. This amazing flickr photographer takes gorgeous photos, and this set titled "night lights" is simply spectacular.)
2 comments:
I like those pictures. She's super good. Thanks for sharing the link!
Nice poem, too. :D
Wow.
Post a Comment