A Shrewd Dance

The top of the stairs is a lonely
place to
sit

buttoned up
blotted out
a
human splotch spying

on a beautiful
dance

her name is dusty
a cryptogram
enticing
men of solution

to
descend

she extends a maze with her hand
he reaches
to
her

one touch
a crushing warmth
he
enters a
twisted, bending, twirling
riddle

at the bottom of the stairs
from the bottom
of a
casual heart

where dusk sways
in
out

entangling him into her
crafty dance