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ENNUI Starkly psychic allusions run like bleeding fingerprints across the shades and drawn curtains; they are chillingly ghostlike images, supplicant and corrosive as they melt in upon each other like graceless ballet implosion. To rapt passers-by, they seem crestfallen as they succumb against their lack of gravity, and condense, relegating to other windows, at once lushly dark against their yellow backdrop. These shadows seem merely to equivocate an existence that moves only with the movers: a parody of a life more real than this side-show rendition. Troubled onlookers decide that this siren song braced in élan must be the puppeteering of demons, and shudder as they commence shuffling small tykes homeward, tossing one forcefully casual backward glance. And still the specters sweep and beg riddles of the empty sidewalks, now derelict and ensconced in ennui. And the curious outlines of birdless wings and legless dancers are immediately vanquished when the yellow lights play out (To copy or translate this poem, please contact CAROLINE ENNIS) TRANSLATOR or ILLUSTRATOR WANTED FOR THIS PAGE |
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