somewhere between moonshine and sunrise
we dance the good dance
a ballroom waltz
stepping metrically like shakespeare
or tennyson or carroll
stealing the show below the glittery
globe shining like a waning gibbous
high in the sky at five o’clock in the morning
all eyes are upon the two of us
like southern stars faint and fixated
occasionally blinking but fascinated
at whatever they may witness
though the band has long performed
its final encore
the dance continues uninterrupted
having transitioned into a resurgency of sorts
fused into a single thought
beneath this expanding artificial light
april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
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