Step barefoot through the awning stretch a right hand to the stone floor carry its quiet to a forehead cup the heart in a palm watch dance for the first time watch dance for the last time the very last time blood draining flesh straining to reach the sky as they surge forth goddesses in blue and purple and ochre first one then twos and threes till they fill the eyes fill a horizon fill heavens with colour and light one sharp precise stroke after another spark constellations with the echo of a heel on stone floor anchor galaxies on crossed arms nudge the winter sun awake with the curve of a brow gather storms in their eyes erase thought girdle time birth that single fleeting moment when you feel alive*
*excerpted from Merce Cunningham’s definition of dance
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