Sunday, 28 December 2014

The Scarlet Lady

Inside this room a lady twirls,
And when she twirls our eyes pretend
That all the past is glory.

She spins within this musky heat,
Converging on the present now.
Our minds shrink deep into this pool,

Remembrance hidden in these steps.
A man is killed, but we don’t see,
Too in love with red red spinning.

Like waves in a murderous sea,
These silken undulations flounce
With the strumming of the strings.

But soon this silk squints, weeping blood.
The dance turned into drummer’s march
Has lost what it once meant to mean

Which we’ve forgotten anyway.
We shouldn’t really care to watch.
This dress no longer satisfies.

Stop dancing, scarlet lady, stop!
You’re out of step.
Remember! Remember!

She twirls, silently,
Dancing on the graves in Ypres.

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