Shell for a spectator (Eliot Cardinaux)

  Shell for a spectator

               Sky, pure sky,

               empty with the words

                 of protest

               splashing against

                        its dome

            I will growl,

               into the

                        night

              music, with its

                           orange

                     calliope of smoke

                 a dance,

                        for beauty,

                 you are a woman,

                         freely moving,

                the shells at his feet,

                  where is he gone?

                  into the black and white

 

                           leaves
                a scarcity on trees,

scarcely moving,

                  twirling, spinning,

                        no one

                               is empty
                                               at all.

 

2/10  ’11