Someone smashed the lamp, so all the shadows stretched and spun a web as
Haircuts took short cuts. Blades sharp for a deep cut… Dropping from the
Rust and the ruts just like a guillotine. A blood red rag to mute the
Screams — sixteen hands are ripping, stripping… waving shredded flags in
Red and in white in the shadow box balconies of eyes are spying unseen in
Eiderdowns, dressing gowns, negligees and towels. Unwinding… launching,
Grinding… they roll off the couches. The devil crouches in the shadow box!
