 
 Twirlby Joe DeRouen
 

                    I held her as we danced,
                    Twirling 'pon the precipice,
                    Moving together to the music,
                    Apart to our own rhythm.
                    
                    A blade lashed out,
                    Blood dripping to the ground,
                    I pushed her away from me,
                    She called my name as she fell.
                    
                    Imagine my surprise:
                    The knife was in my hand,
                    The blood,
                    hers.
                    
                    (Author's note: Composed on-line 3:01am, 
                    07/25/93)
                    
                                -end-
                     Copyright (c) 1993 Joe DeRouen
                         All Rights Reserved
                    
