1 minute read
IF I WERE TO DANCE AGAIN
If I were to dance again As my six-year-old self Without concern for turned-in pirouettes Or angled wrists.
Everything in wild humanity Daring to escape the fragile Edges of my frame. To dance without fear of sensuality,
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A body without implication. My torso a twisting tree trunk, Arms branching out, home for a chickadee— I wouldn’t mind that the tree spins in circles
Until it falls down Giggling and dizzy.
Written By Grace Runkle
