Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Nita loves to dance. Her mind is filling
With music like a glass filling with wine.

She stretches up her arms, her hands
Feel like touching invisible stars. She

Is all alone, the room is empty except
For the ghosts of past dancers, standing

And watching, silently clapping. She
Pirouettes until her toes bleed, until

The applause ends. Berghouser will
Come soon and take her home; he

Will not applaud, his is not the clapping
Of hands except about her head or face.

She closes her eyes; there is the dance
Steps to remember, the positions to

Recall, the tempo to maintain. She
Is the pirouetter of pirouetters, the

Mover of motions, the dancer of
Dances. Berghouser stands by the

Door of the room and watches; his
Dark eyes move over her flesh, her

Motion, the pirouetting, the tenderness
Of thighs. Nita senses his presence,

The burning sensation of his dark
Eyes, his fingers itching to touch

And feel and slap, she can sense it
In her mind’s wounds aching still.

The man in the mountain-trap house
will dance with a hideous spouse
whose broken & bruised
because the fool choosed
to snap whom he'd slapped like a mouse.

thank you, joel.