12 March 2012
Waltzing with words, sidestepping sentences
My voice wears a mask to confuse the curved
Punctuations hanging in the air
Their clumsy feet cannot match my fluidity, my grace.
Phrases pirouette off of my tongue
Turning to smoke as they fall.
Rising, once again, to twirl with my thoughts in this dark dance
As I sit, a statue, and enigma,
I dance.
I am hiding behind myself again.
The Dancer • Opuss № I