LordPeter List Literary Contest

Complacencies of the lounge, and late
coffee (or liqueur) at a shadowed table,
and the polished freedom of coached dancers
upon the floor mingle to dissipate
an unholy murmur of ancient fashion.
She dreams a little, and she feels the dark
encroachment of that old oppression,
as a calm darkens among watery waltzes.
the petunia satins and downcast eyes
seem things in some procession of the past,
winding back the dancers, without laces.
The day will show the dancers without laces
racing and passing you by with unbound feet
over the streets, to modern Jerusalem,
dominion of new blood and blasted sepulchres.

-- Sylvia Marriott

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