No dancing anymore since
the fifth-grade play where the girls wore hoop skirts
and the teacher told us to dance one at a time
I waltzed and whirled and flitted and flurried across that stage
my skirt flaring, my underpants showing,
grinning at the great fun of it all
and the teacher laughed
not a slight smirk, but a full out guffaw
nose honking, shoulders shaking
as I slunk to the back of the line
I should say no more dancing on the outside
since shuffling shame-faced off the stage
classmates snickering
But sister of spring’s first daffodils
scattering gold on green fields
Lady of loons’ call at dusk, gliding
across glassy lakes
Brother of deer, white tails darting
through the underbrush
I dance on the inside all the time
my hoop skirt flashing
Photo by Ahmad Odeh on Unsplash
