Gravedancers’ Ball

whose graves we choose
to fantasize
the tarantelle upon

is less relevant
than knowing we all
have the deep longing
to dance there

polarity’s
the public target
of disgust
but honestly?
we all love to sin
that light fantastic
we can’t seem to sit still
red, blue
left, right

love that happy dance

how soft the ground
and yielding
how haughty our heels

how good it feels
to be swinging
above them
and they can’t do a thing
about it

the beautiful American word
revenge
is a toe dance of righteousness

everyone’s tapping
some on top
some waiting their turn

but every bastard one of us
wants to dance that dance