Student Publishing Program ::

Leighanne Wang

Like the Angels Dance

Broken contours of
The weary, the worn, the wasted,
Rise in a sea of pink and black.
Silhouettes of drowsy, drained faces,
Pale as the lazy flicker of wax candles
Entanglements of sweaty arms and legs
Cutting and jutting out at awkward angles
Jagged shadows of satin and nylon shoot out
In a shower of silver bullets, falling
To the ground in the agony of one thousand buffalos
Twig thin arms rise above sleek heads,
Bending in the strangest contortions
Probing necks crane upward as if mesmerized
By the tiny cracks and stains that scatter the ceiling
Spinning around in masses, dizzily swaying
No fallen swans of grace, only
The clumsy stumble of a drunken pace
Strained legs propel the fatigued figures of china dolls
Hanging in mid air like stilled puppets
Awaiting instructions obediently
Falling to meet the floor on aching bruises
That litter knobby knees like stained grape juice
Staying only to kiss the ground

[TABLE OF CONTENTS, LHS CLASS OF 2012 EDITION]