Tiny Ballerinas

A tiny couple of ballerinas Went round And round on The edge of a glass of absinthe… Then disappeared With the part-return of the Conscious. Jewel of the Crown So long hidden under The presumptuous weight of Arrogant centuries. Glow worm of the night Your wore tonight Tiny suits in black And butterfly Why? The eye-lids tremble Tremble in REM What dreams have you been Dreaming? You gave the light, the match-stick To the sub-conscious Brunt of work. A wandering harp Tiny In this state of Tininess Bed-ridden Because the winter's Cold So cold And wrathful Sometimes I reconsider Autumn, first destroyer of Leaves and buds. Or at the extreme, winter Give me the cry of the sea-gull The parched cry The cry of the unrequited Pained Suffering Revolutionary.