Michael Turner was born in Baltimore and has spent much of his life traveling. He joined the US Navy after high school and spent the next 28 years traveling from South Korea to the islands of Greece and acquiring his education. Recently retired, Mike spends his time ballroom dancing, doing odd jobs, and writing poetry when he gets the blues. We don’t like to wish unhappiness to people, but we like when people write good work, so we’ll wish for Mike’s muse to visit him frequently and when he is in good spirits.
La Danse Immobile
By Michael Turner
Our love becomes a dance without music,
immobile partners in mute pantomime,
shadows swaying in time to different drummers
facing away from one another.
Our love becomes a rained out water color show,
inky wet outlines of a wondrous romance
and rainbow ribbons running from lost dreams,
pooling in sorrow.
Our love becomes a circus of two clowns,
ignoring wants and heeding only pain,
racing to false fronts of wild conflagrations
in smiling costumes hiding broken hearts.
Our love becomes a wasting disease,
it creases our faces with angst,
starves our bodies for togetherness,
curves our spines with woe.
Your love turns from beauty to sadness.
And sometimes, back again.