Sherbet

Sucking her in,

acidic-sharp,

she swiftly spins

on a vinyl record needle;

sugar coats her skin

dappling silver sherbet

as mirrored moons

held in girlish hands.

Sherbet-high,

she dances clean

on velvet touch;

stroking soft,

rekindling deadened souls.

Sherbet sparks flare:

are spun metallic webs

in electro-beat nightclubs,

weaving glockenspiel hearts

stitched to sugared souls;

singing silky notes

of Toto’s Africa.

Sour tangs course -

rivers of 1980’s neon

spinning sentiments as candy-floss;

peony-pink gossamer threads

flail in abandon,

desperately seeking stability:

a sturdy hand to hold.

Her only parachute…

She searches for his face

seeing only fuzzy blur;

pop videos that recall

semblances of him

akin to Flying Saucers

mimicking spacecraft voyages;

one melts on her tongue,

with feral ferocity:

a fizzy-fast

desire.

She

struts

nocturnal

dance

floors.

Sherbet liquorice

laces with magic,

calling as sirens

of shimmering magic;

her strength flickers here,

disco-drugged,

sugar-drenched high,

diving deep for love.

It lies locked

in a hidden drawer

barely whispering

with sherbet-dusted lips;

murmurs of ballads,

minutely audible,

slip unconsciously

from sealed lips:

a salty-silent love.

She hears its hush:

an electric trill,

as she slow dances,

clutched too close,

at the end of the night.

Her sherbet scales flex,

dalliance bright,

in mirror ball reflections.

Flash Issue 16