III. Sonnets for Dancer

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As twenty three years have plainly shown,

dressed in habits as mouldy clothes,

recession seeks some somberly loaned

gown as good will is predisposed

to attend to those who mend themselves.

Those who sew some harlequin vest,

made-do with patches, dumpster-delves,

wherein your jester, clad yet undressed:

I have built myself with loving intent,

hemmed together: red, purple, plaid.

Designed to blend into environs meant

to baffle, inspire– rankled or glad.

If I were to prance on your toes,

an accidental piercing anecdote,

I will lick sanguine, ease the throes,

suck up your glass while I trim a new coat:

  in time, I find, I change with the season  

  of your fashion: sublime, gentle, reasoned.

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