the dust spins and floats
in the corners of this stone room
like those impossible dancers
in the bolshoi ballet

catapulting fruitless wishes
into the heavens
through a hole the width of
only a single rib

the past wafts through in equal measure
as if to reject your dreaming
even the perfect echo
of your glass voice deletes itself

springs on the lock loaded
with the weight and pressure
of your lifelong allostatic load
the coil tightens to an air seal

still there is room to breathe
inside the doldrums of
this confined and claustrophobic
spectral shadow present

the reprise of every heartbeat
every blink, every breath,
every step, every stare,
erodes you into bone and dust

spinning and floating
in the corners of your room
like those impossible dancers
in the bolshoi ballet.