THOUGHTS WHILE WATCHING PINA
I want to write the way she danced.
I want someone to move the chairs
as I move blind
through a complicated room.
space, limbs loose, cardboard ears,
grinning in a line.
I want a gown
the color of my hair, very high heels.
I want to fall and fall and someone to catch me every single time.
I want water
rocks, light. I want
my skirts thick
with the weight of water.
I’ve been avoiding poems.
Look: how small my writing has become.
on the end
of a line.
No matter how
I scribble, I’m held, I’m held.
I will not wear a short red dress again.
Never again that passion and that pain.
Oh, let me
close my eyes and fall.
the dirt shoveled on my back.
I will bury myself: eyes, mouth:
I won’t stand up or turn away.
All around the rim
the seasons pass and on my back
I will carry
a tall green tree.
I will learn
to gesture as the seasons change.
No matter what I do, I can’t format this the right way. Alas. There are lots of indentations in the original. Use your imagination.