She balks at the doorway hesitant to enter,
Clinging to the rapacious rope
As her hand revisits undulations between each tiny knot…
She worries the surface of the hemp ring,
Her fingers dancing over the uneven strings wet with sweat…
Awfully assembled are ultraistic men who dare her to enter
Where they can edit her slow motion pirouette
Above distinct lines coalesced within subtle shades of hazel and henna;
The pain is distant and mythically muted while the dance
Continues even as uneven music convulses in the background…
She resists the orderly, who grasped her tangled hair,
Pulling her forward toward the spotlight
Fixed on the center point where blind edges converge
Slicing the image from stem to stern
In equal parts portioning the layers of guilt between
Extreme enigmatic vestibules…
In their eyes she senses clarion conviction shattering her assurity
As they fixedly watch her unwind,
The counter clockwise spirals slowing until the moment
Stands still and they step toward her…
Each taking her in a ritualistic embrace; holding tight,
Circling the clinical space in rapid succession…
One after another flashing through the pinpoint glare
Staring into her unblinking eyes,
Forcing the satiated silk around her knees,
Parsing her sighs and mumbled innuendos,
Her holistic hyperbole and annexed anxiety
Probing the intensity of her need
Against the backdrop of languid fulfillment
In the wretched twists and turns
On the placated platinum floor…
They gather the limp body and place her content
Upon a cynical platform labeled salvation,
Tempered by a momentary posture of grace…
As flames leap to the heavens
She takes her final bow, spinning quietly,
Twisting away from the intense heat…
Judgment
Prism Gates
JA Allen
