“Time is a stripper, doin’ it just for you.“
A laboring woman imagines herself a lotus
opening in time lapse; or maybe waves in a tide
rolling in, slipping back,
slowly, surely bringing in the tide.
The sound of the water clacking
through smooth flipping shore stones:
that sound ripples through me,
feels like your fingers tracing my spine.
The water then, the wind now,
filling the skirts of whirling girls
like flags clapping at full mast.
Music, the third dimension of air,
creates the lattice on which the twirlers
catch and glimmer and spin.
Sound the bells, let fly the ribbons,
it‘s time to dance!