Nine Ladies Dancing
Slowly, like
music box dolls, we turn on the spot. Feeling small I close the gap between us,
hoping a change will make me seem bigger, more, enough. Cheek to my love’s
chest, I hear a heart beating in time with the record player’s tune.
The
dance floor is full. The dance floor is empty. I don’t know. My eyes are
closed. Flickering, they visit – all masked – parodies of me, these women who
dance through my body and are gone. They dance on.
My
love has given me another chance. I am a cat with nine lives and this is my
last.
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| Photo credit: Tilemahos Efthimiadis via Flickr |
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