One day she will dance. I’m sure she moves like no one’s watching when no one is – shakes her full hips on and off the beat, faster than that, forward and back, bum-bum, bada-bum-bum, hands tight on her thighs before they’re thrown up in the air as the tempo rises, smile wide, mouth open, swirling amidst the bounce of the bass – losing herself in the smash of percussion rhythms – – sshhh-sshhhe’s almost too comfortable.
She loves to dance, I know she does. The corner of her mouth where those melodic lips meet curls halfway back, hiding her grin every time she tells me no, nO, NO. I kn-o-w – you refuse to shake the way you surely can, so for now breathe in every slow dance, every single sway lost is sweet darkness. For now, until one day – the day she dances.