Croquis

darling come follow me 

with the moon dressed like Saturn.

grab your pain and womb envy,

we will go worlding with golden handmaidens.

darling hammer the heated metal.

smith bending their body instar

in your honor, we’re obligated to confide with ghosts

and embrace what we must avoid.

peels of thunder rip the sky, sing little bee

zigzagging through arabesque lacework.

we hunker down draping fabric on croquis.

they still lick Fatima and kiss saint’s feet.

sketchbook, watch pockets become tech pockets,

secretly zipped, defending the dance.

unwanted guest, thinking is a kind of dance. 

mysteries are revealed in dance.

philosophers find happiness in dance.

dance...dance alone!

whip into submission, transcend this enemy,

dancers in a line arm’s length apart,

our concern must fill the distance.

touch in verbal expressions of warmth.

harmony moves through muscles

dancing with the enemy that is always one step ahead.

they know us intimately preying on our sociability,

traveling in the hazard’s fiction.

bring talk of black weddings,

bodies lay sweating, lungs gasping for breath

drowning in a cytokine storm.

blood factor, hating your own gender,

the microscopic beauty of its crown doesn’t matter. 

they can’t stop the little bit of insanity

that does a great deal of healing, dance.

in touch with divine femininity, 

let’s dance

draping fabric on croquis…