You are the drunk father at a ballet recital,

Who falls off the stage after shaking everyone's hands.

You are the body that brightens my life.

in midwinter noon’s light your fingers shudder out concerto number three
on the insides of your cheek
in the hollows of your thighs
prickling beneath your ribs
swollen heart
knees that cave so, just so

split second they called you beautiful
golden under the lights
but many hours more you oxidize
feet
rusting varnish green
rusty blood that stems, slowly, slowly

they say the music dances through the one she loves, a body and life anew
i once saw the night embrace you as a lover
did you love her back?
did you love me back?
or were we to have and to hold and to throw
across the room
reborn as something less

a minute on the stage you are resplendent as a thousand suns, refracting
ten thousand hours you are the shade of worn soles, warehouse practice rooms, old blood and baby powder,
unpretty.
and glorious

Graceful lines and symmetry
but beneath it all you cannot see
the chaos held together with spit and prayers
and a cocktail of modern medicine's
latest poison.
My dance is a side effect
that just happens to be graceful
my song
a disembodied pantomine
that passes for social interaction.

I don't pretend to be like you
but I'm trying  
and on my best days I stretch and preen
and the sun hits my feathers in just the right way
and almost
in the right light I resemble who I really am without
bipolar.

Everyday I watched Daisy dance in the park.
She was a girl of eight years old.
She always looked so carefree and
without a single problem in the world.

I came to watch her dance each day,
because I envied her beautiful innocence.
She twirled and leaped and curtisied and tip toed
across the playground without a hint of wickedness.

I watched her and thought of the work I had to do,
but Daisy had an abundance of free time.
I knew I was much too busy to be watching her,
but I loved the reminder of my long lost prime.

She was the ideal of who I aspired to be.
A girl who can dance with all of her soul
and not worry about anyone that may be watching.
A girl who knows the simple things make us whole.

I feared for my little Daisy.
I was afraid of the day she'd start to comprehend
that this life isn't one giant beautiful ballet.
When that day comes, her dancing will violently end.

I feared for myself as well.
What will happen to me when her dancing is done?
Who will I watch and admire each day?
The restless sinful flesh will have won.

One word and we pause,
        Hanging suspended in space.
        Limbs the very picture of elegant restraint.
Two heartbeats before release.
        The tension is shattered.
        Feet once more on the ground.
Three bodies moving together,
        En pointe, flying as one.
        Somewhere, I became the tulle of my skirt.
Four limbs is all we have.
        Our limbs and our hearts,
        And the dance already owns them.
Five positions we move through,
        Having already etched them
        On the pillars of our memory ages ago.
Six minutes the music endures
        And we along with it,
        Transfixed in time by tradition and passion.
Seven criticisms we each weather,
        Holding our breath,
        Grace comes with a hefty price.
Eight beats and we move once more
        -Folding and unfolding-
        Balanced on a knife's edge, we can breathe again.