Voiceless rhythms bounce and drop
slip, slide across marble tops
and under chairs, churning in the ash
of charred cigarettes
collapsed but still remain.

Shake the dust down
stale dingy stairwells cracking at the seams
with ripped rust rushing through trembling veins
in shallow skin of lace and waste
sour to the taste.

Falsettos a flailing feather
fanning her fed neck and
across the cheek, blooming
below beaming eyes and brushed red lips
cascading smoke dribbles from the nose.

Limp, lifeless, low
tremors fade atop a sleeping stage
stolen from absorbing orbs, an amber-orange glow
spinning specks of reflecting abyss
paling the pock-marked moon
lune, dune, soon awoken
swept away to somewhere new.