I’m like a spider trying to get out the bath
or King Kong swatting planes on the Empire State Building
swaying like a broken rope bridge on some imagined breeze
imploding with nematode tones
like it’s 1518 in Strasbourg
like the red shoes are still on
like a plague that’s out of control
like arrhythmia is not just of the heart
or even of the mind
like I’m actually hitting the dance floor
like actually tripping the light fantastic
actually cutting a rug
actually getting on down
actually having a foot loose
actually hoofing it
gifting my bones to the space they seek
a deceleration of cells
a vertical lean
a splitting of atoms
forearms twirling like hope batons
driving out demons then letting them in through the same cracks
turning body away from the forehead before turning back
singing head-bobbing a hymn to St Vitus
with palm-leaf, raven and lion, letting the rains come
rib cage cauldron hot
baboon legs, pig feet, you should see me dance
all shiva arms without the grace