THE DANCE
Minutes hover in trains, everything is
a forecast from an old future
the new one is still variable in the making
a misremembered song from the past
the girl opposite is nodding her dreamy head
‘you are receiving from the year’ of your birth
of your death, dying on trains while
the ordnings vakt guys stand by preserving
old acts of impurity in the name you clean with
among the tall houses on the east side
everyone watches to see what kind of soul
emerges, grey answers, double delicious
is it about amnesty, painted rainbows
reading suspended clocks on the red line
the dödsdansen around the doors
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Jill Jones www.jilljones.com.au
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