The Dancing girls

The dancing girls have come undone Henry said
Upon the stage the unraveled knot of all their beauty
Wound itself around the auditorium and strangled the empty chairs
Glitter rained down like blood and clung to every thing
A choke of feather boas lay naked
The carnage of some ancient and extinct bird
Blowing about the theatre – ironic flight – phoenix rising
A forlorn shoe with a broken heel points to the light
And outside, the box office manager sweats and struts and demands the return of those wayward dancing girls
While patrons call for refunds
On tickets that were half price
Skirting the silent stairs the sound of footsteps out onto the street
Somehow the moon is kind and the streetlights dim
Their blistered feet take respite from the cold pavement and their stockings long since laddered are left behind
The dancing girls are plain – their sequined skins remain
Tonight a feast, perhaps some wine
The music will play
But the dance is done