The Body of the Dance
As he dances through and beyond,
past and back, returning to the
time before he started to dance,
he shifts and skips, changes focus:
Seeing others spiral and twist,
breaking through thrown squares of light;
picking up mirrored tiles, to
hold, to squeeze, to eat.
Watching them dance through letters formed
by dashed lines, through sharing better
toys (the least-chewed), through losing
first names to a last initial.
They dance upward, older, taller,
round the social circle, in-out,
weaving a learnt-friendship maypole
of go-to-school, make-friends, close-mind.
He danced to a stillness of thought,
and of mind, and he fell apart
from the throng. He was no dancer;
he was removed from the body.
© Matthew Joseph Johnson, 2009
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