Clair de Lune

This is a surreal poem I wrote for my last poetry writing workshop. I’ve been working on it on and off for a long time, and just can’t seem to get it right. It still seems to be missing something! Do you ever have that problem when writing? Any suggestions?

Clair de Lune

Photo credit: This Year's Girl

Photo credit: This Year’s Girl

Gentlemen in tails twirl
masked ladies scented with bergamot,
anguish that dances in pairs
disguised as fantastic beasts
to the mood of A minor.

Love vanishes at every opportunity.
Is not the past already
creeping in to bury her?
A slow march of moonlight,
three steps,
they bow –

Fate dances in rivers
of loss, and sings
the exit of those winged Parisian marbles.


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