020525
METAMORPHOSIS
heaven knows it's not up to you
silent and unmoving, you’ll wait
seeking solace from the grotesque sounds and unsightly changes
because no one warned you that purification is degrading
we call it a rebirth and expect decency but stripped of our past,
we are left naked, begging the open air to reshape us
in change we are human in change we are helpless
a process for which no one is granted clemency
021725
Margaret Morris, 1920s School of Dance
Photographer Unknown
021925
MARIONETTE
I dance alone in my room with the curtains drawn. Bare and dressed in light,
I sway for the stranger passing by. A slinking silhouette, I dance for the ache
to mean something. That their lonesome eyes might meet my lonely limbs.
I move about my room like a marionette, feet sliding along the wooden floors
as the strings of desire twist me into a shape of feigned worth. I hold the image
of an anonymous face cradled in my mind, unwilling to stop and bear the truth
of an empty street. Taunting and teasing, I feast on a crumb of something more
and yet swallow still, grateful for a taste nonetheless.