The first oracles and principles
crawl over the dawn and turn
into coffins for everything we did.

Where a laughing king’s wife
dances with merriment
you will find a sad man, feet glued to his shoes

so his toes will never know
the truth in cool grass or the sands warmth.
She says “come dance
naked with me, it is a warm night”.
He stares back “No,
my legs are broken, now leave
me here, just go.”

Her knees swell with his hatred
but she lifts herself, alone
onto the dance floor.