the dance

my heart’s music sends me
whirling around this friend
passing that stranger
now grasping a hand for a long beat of music
now avoiding another touch
          for every contact stains my costume
          and I am spattered
          crimson and dripping
          with shades of . . .expectation

how many unheeded marks I have left on others
ignoring their dance
for my own intricate choreography
          sometimes I think
          the most valuable touches
          were left by those
          who didn’t even notice
          and I think . . .
the reverse must also be true . . .right?

is my dance my own
or have I been guided always
by shadow partners
who entwine my desires with
          you should really . . .if I were you
          even a quick spin of
          let’s be practical

but even as I question
I remember steady hands
throwing me into the air with
          there are no limits to who you can be

in a moment the beat will sound
and I must leap again
but I have forgotten my choreography
          what foot leads . . .how high . . .
          where will I land . . .
          who will catch me if I fall . . .if I fail?

I will not
          the music will be ready
          and I will rise and dance . . .again



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