woman! I shout-sing as I marvel
at your new-found confidences;
you have always been alone.
but now your soft-shoed dancing
knows the way it goes.
woman, you leaned into my mirror
before tonight,
rouged and pretty.
ribbons twirling through the darkened room,
led by the clavicle,
shimmering as you raise your wrists.
but girl, you draw back,
nightfall’s closing wildflower,
blushing and shy when I lower my eyes.
there is no dance led with the top of the head.
your girl quivers at my invitation,
gapes at my extended hand,
and her bird-bones stiffen at the
almost-touch of my cheek.
(as published in Rushlight, fall 2014)