Who are you, beauties, can move through glass doors
Straight and silent and swift, barely
Parting the air you pass through?
Untouched, it seems, you skate on mirrored glass,
How is it you leave no trace?
Long, lean, Shadow Goddesses, skating through her dream,
Round and round you promenade,
In your endless state of Grace.
Pirouette in your fur-trimmed cloaks!
Your aristocratic petal hands
So safely shattered in the skins of
Screaming animals, and
Your eyes, too bright with Belladonna; and
Your narrow lips too tightly blades,
You leave no trace.