Sonnet 9

Valse Triste said in nostalgic sounds you forced them to play it for hours a curlew had come through the heat of corridor none could sway better on the slippery floor it emitted a phosphorescent glow in Oslo among groves of orchids, you wanted to go this gray spirit had filled with more intense you are a woman with a shred of sense disguised as a purple phantom at a torched ball they were colors of poison on the wooden wall a hammock on veranda where you could lie down who could explain us what's possibly going on? devotion for the only glimpse of loveless marriage Stalin crossed the wet riverbed to the sharpened edge