July 11, 2012

  • Rehearsal

    I love you in a silent place
    between window panes
    and in the corners of stairways
    where the handrail–a barre–
    steadies me, a dancer
    before her music,
    about to stretch
    her way into collective breaths
    held gently,
    like my waist:
    your fingertips, too,
    a Degas.

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