pulse of the nightclub,
blood at her feet
boots slickslide against the tile
she dances, she dances
in the carnage of herself that she has left behind
all those loves
all those lives
those four folders became five, and ten, then a thousand
in a moment
in a flicker
the whole of everything she ever knew
brought down
into focus
at the cherry end
of a lit cigarette
as it tumbles off the fire escape
to scatter falling stars
to the alleyway
below
Scatter Falling Stars
Love the image of the cigarette falling
Terry
Thank you!