Raccoon Eyes and Rough-Cut Bangs – Cycle Three: Day Eleven

In Roxannes’ wake, No Cyrano,
No Christian steels the weathered halls.
But rooms of sweating dance floor forms,
Just sweaty girls and sweaty boys.

How sweet the salt that falls away,
Like roses’ tears, like thistles’ milk,
And bass line rolls and rolls us down,
Like sweat that I can taste tonight.

How sweet the perfumed droplet mist,
That coats the room in half formed light,
In jerks and struts of bodies’ crave:
The love-want flows, the dancers rites.

Her raccoon eyes that called me in,
Those rough-cut bangs in New Wave ‘ffant.
Her sweaty splash with every flick,
Those Roxanne rasps that split the night.

In Roxannes’ wake, No Cyrano,
No Christian steels the weathered halls.
But rooms of sweating dance floor forms,
Just sweaty girls and sweaty boys.

11/30

Words: 131
Unique Words: 80

#NaPoWriMo2019

NaPoGloPoWriMo2019