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The Scrambler
I have one foot
on the floor and one
in the air my head
is turned I am
looking over
my right shoulder
to see you in back
of me this would
be funny if it weren’t so
funny how I never
saw you until just
now I can almost see
your face if I can
put this foot down
I will not fall for
you are still
there aren’t you
Pas de
All the Light
(for A.V.)
Silver rests
along your wrists
and against your throat;
it jingles softly as you
walk. Your eyes draw
mine as you talk and all
the light in the room
flows toward you,
dark angel,
and I am held still,
silent, my breath
*Greg Luce lives in Washington D.C.
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