At the seam of the mist
she dances on shard.

The hurricane redoubles, whipped glass,
her lamp splays across the crag,
barefoot maniacal, strands of
soaked being, where sea becomes storm.

She brighter than the lightning
failing to illuminate her moment aflame.

The air is filled with
the howling song of massive woodwinds.

Perhaps calliopes
she whispers.

© Chagall 2016

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