Parading

I was pirouette and flourish,

The thoughts watch themselves

Oh taste how sweet and tart

The flames consume all but

All things are matter, yet these seem

In your dream

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,

a most satisfactory dreamlife—why all this beating of wings?

We’ll have to wait until the next time

Between trees, a slender woman lifts up the lovely shadow