By Shadygirl   ed4u@hotmail.com
Date: 21 September 1998

Whisper Dancer

I look for faces
of familiar angels
in the swirling smoke
of your cigarette.

You kiss your coffee cup
with open lips
as you swallow
the remaining
hot, quick comfort
before continuing.

Your mortal eyes
lounge in mine in a
deliberate attempt to
rip out my desolate heart.

A phrase dances on
your breath and
pirouhettes
in my ear,
before bowing
low.

It will take me
all week to forget
your thoughtless
conversation.