Lucrative Shadows in the Sutures of Pawns

cranial plates soap box rhythms
placoid illusions to soft music
soft bones, letting go of the evening triumph
no longer a stalemate dancer, but another self-styled drone bee

Souls meagre and secluded in adroit pastures
too soon to let go, too soon for fresh air
too soon for fragments of history or the frequency of legends
to allow adrift a summons for our collective efforts