I remember a good friend’s tattoo
Creating star charts with her own freckles -
Seems a better use of space.
Dolly Parton sings about leaving
Our palms touch as we weave quadrille
Breathless, dance and count, unfettered.
The record skips from reckless stomps
We roar and snake, uncaring.
The tea steeps near my
Waiting, freckled arms
And I am tempted to dip my wrist towards
the steaming kettle.
I look to the aquarium-green room,
Not a shimmer of that gaiety remains
But I beat out the counts with my spoon -
One, two. One, two.
Walk to the doors and be sure they are bolted
One, two
Shake up the dust, let it find new homes
One, two
Measure the sounds and turn all to silent
One, two
If it isn’t heard, it isn’t seen, it isn’t true.
