and what will the years be after
your expirations assigned to you
while catching and happening breath no less limited in numbers
deep for all fortunate, shallow for all others that die within every corner

upon flame-lit central floors
those fortunate waltz in ignorance of distant pleas and curses
drowned out by golden opaque harmony
hands in attendance shall drag another away, indiscriminate
over to those corners
places of sickness, weakness, places of age
where we find an adolescence in the dead elder
where cancerous children are therapy
where innocence is no good answer
a ballroom through us to glow until it is gone