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My love & I won’t stop dancing.
we don’t concern ourselves with rhythm
we don’t concern ourselves with rhythm
or room—we see opportunity to wave
our limbs in haphazard motions, jump
our limbs in haphazard motions, jump
with smiles that bunch our cheeks
into tight hot balls, hops that throw
into tight hot balls, hops that throw
the sagging of our bellies around, that suck
the breath from our lungs, that work the tendons
the breath from our lungs, that work the tendons
close to our hearts into stronger
muscles & when we’re done, we sink
muscles & when we’re done, we sink
into each other, held up only by a willingness
to keep the other on their feet for at least
to keep the other on their feet for at least
a little longer. We danced when I graduated
college, danced when we moved into that house
college, danced when we moved into that house
on Ocean Boulevard, & when I saw
the baby blue jay on our cold kitchen floor—
the baby blue jay on our cold kitchen floor—
featherless wrinkled skin, fragile soft
chirps—scooped her up in a towel, you stole
chirps—scooped her up in a towel, you stole
mulberries from the neighbor’s tree
to crush & spoon into her pink, gaping mouth.
to crush & spoon into her pink, gaping mouth.
We did our best to keep her warmth
safe until morning came & we could drive
safe until morning came & we could drive
her to the wildlife rescue, leave her in that little
cubby—alone—where a vet would find her.
cubby—alone—where a vet would find her.
Back on Ocean, we held each other, swayed
slowly to silence, arms resting on shoulders
slowly to silence, arms resting on shoulders
delicate, like if we gripped too tightly
we’d lose the other.
we’d lose the other.
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