Poem in Triple Time
by Theodora Goss

Loneliness and I
were dancing hand in hand
to the stately measures
of a sarabande.

He bowed to me and said,
my lady, sweet and fair,
may I take you to
my castle in the air?

We’ll live on cloud meringues
and crystal cups of dew,
and you, my bride-to-be,
shall learn to love me true.

His eyes were soft and mild,
his manners of the best,
he was, de cap a pié,
so elegantly dressed.

And yet I turned and ran
as though from certain death
and did not stop until
I had to catch my breath.

Since then I’ve wandered through
forest and field and town,
worn a hole in my slippers,
torn the hem of my gown.

I’ve made my dinner of herbs
on crusts of day-old bread
and counted myself lucky
to have this food, instead

of dreams and airy nothings
so grand you would not guess
I was dancing with a phantom,
married to loneliness.

(The image is Dance in the City by Pierre-Auguste Renoir.)