| The Wrecking Ball. |
[Wednesday, Feb. 25th, 2009|12:55 pm]
The richest girl in town.
|
One, two, three. One, two, three.
First a fugue, then a waltz,
finally tarantella: ten musicians playing
ten different songs at the same time.
Taffeta and lace spinning through the air:
she flies about under her own power,
but she's out of control.
Each handhold a heavy leash of steel:
metallic elastic stretched at full velocity
snaps, reeling her back in again.
The impending impact: a smack of iron
against brick, breasts against chest,
all atoms smashing to the beat, a crescendo.
A deafening death: destruction dances
in a 125-pound body, a nuclear holocaust
clothed in skin, hair like a hundred fuses lit.
One, two, three. One, two, three. Three, two, one-- |
|
