another dance, please, under
Domineering clouds of breathless purples,
feet pumping the ground in equal and opposite,
dry and dusty wind beginning at the feet,
storming dancers around you
when

the horizon forgets its edges
and the sky leans low enough to listen,
your pulse is percussion, you had forgotten, as it strikes the mind

out of thin air, until even silence fractures.

When

lightning learns the shape of your spine,
tracing it in sudden flashes of grammar,
a Law the storm cannot finish
without you.

your hands carve the air into meaning,
each gesture a small rebellion, not of mercy but recognition

every step you take
is returned in thunder,

the earth answers back in tremors,

as if the ground had been waiting
for your name.

in the low sun, dancers made of shadows twirl with their trees’ silhouettes

When