An Interpretive Dance

Side-step, dear girl!

Stroke the floor and sway.

Swing yourself this way, sweet soldier to the ideal, and listen to my creaking hips as they croon about their shattered existence.
 
You can see this, can you not?
The angle of this bone
 
Right
Here
 
It was broken twice by him.
A little less painful than a heart, is a rib.
 
But he and him and that son of his
Once said
A long time ago
that we came from ribs
So they should have a right to break them.
 
Let me turn my head for you, like this.
Let your eyes trace this hollow-
that recess between head and heart
caved in from unspoken everythings
screaming in silence
as tongue-tied as Lavinia
in her tragic tale
 
This finger is stark naked and brutally aware
 
Right
There.
 
Though she was bare since birth,
She forgets so quickly
about a time before Adam and his apple
 
And this scar
Across the navel
Is not
As long
As the one
I cannot show you
 
It is far less pretty
But it is twice as deep.
 
Look into my eyes
 
Right
Now
 
Blink
And I will be gone
 
Blink
And I will reflect dried blood
Within dark pupils for you to gaze upon
 
And you will see a convex image of you and you (one in each eye)
Staring one at a time
At two possible realities
Without understanding
Which to choose
And which to swing away from.
 
Look at the dance floor, sweet soldier,
and decide
 
to sway into his way?
to stroke, or to side-step?

to walk away
or to embrace
 
yourself or him?

....in a dance.