Truly I am worn about the edges
but maybe you see lace.
My bones ache but I hope you see the graceful mudras made by my hands,
signs in the air.
The wrinkles are deepening.
The song is strengthening. I cradle myself.
Everything is fine. Everything.
I don’t know how to give up the freedom
I had to go wherever I wanted.
Once when I was a waitress
I was asked if I was a dancer.
Little did they know:
Nights I hit the floor
with the opening bars of flamenco music and the
crowd breaking into applause
or leaping at the wedding, two people
I didn’t know, friends of my friend
and an excuse to fly.
The disco’s vast smoothness
before anyone else showed,
spins and spirals in cut-offs and
t-shirt, going home so I could
reappear in slinky slacks and
My ego wants to win this battle.
I can’t get stranded,
dependent on my own feet
to steer me home,
the delicious adventure
is postponed forever.
Illusions prevent me from expressing the
Magnificence I know I am, precious
vehicle for spirit’s work.
But I am determined to throttle
them to death.
I'm a big fan of my home state of Minnesota, especially because all of my kids and grandkids live here. I'm retired but keep busy with puttering, volunteering and writer's groups. I have three well-loved kitties who keep me smiling. I am surrounded by trees and wildlife even though I live within a few miles (as the crow flies) of the state capitol building in downtown St Paul. This keeps me quite contented.