The Vanished Dancer

THE VANISHED DANCER


White strings with white onions hang
From a rusty nail hammered into
a dark brown wall.
The courtyard spotted by a stained Venus
with one arm.
It is too dark to see
Venus' blue eyes and blonde hair,
It is too dark to see
the lemon trees' Moorish architecture,
It is too dark to see
scattered among stucco flakes
Curled on the red tile floor,
fragments of Apollo's fallen chariot.
What is present in this dark place
is only glimpsed when a gold light
flashes from fireflies.
So what is seen is enameled with gold:
A gold dropped rose, a golden bent hairpin,
a gold castanet,
The golden indentations in dust
made by high heels.


Duane Locke

Posted over on Off Course