Selfness

Have you ever seen a moth drown?

Its wings disintegrate on its body

And leave great smudges,

Grey and yellow dust all over the sink

Have you ever seen a moth drown?

Neither have I,

Because how can you watch it,

On its back (a back disappearing)

Limbs flailing, reaching

Then becoming still, resigned

Then forgetting its resignation

Throwing off its death

Trembling with all its tiny life,

A life fast ebbing from it

In flowing grey and yellow

Have you ever felt a moth drown?

I knew that I should kill it,

But I could not crush that graceful body

Here

everything is offered its own death,

We believe in nature,

The Brutal, Humbling Beauty of it.

So I gave it a piece of paper,

And it grabbed, and pulled,

And before I could stop it

It had fled from the paper to my finger,

Where it clung, sending chills down my arm.

 

Have you ever seen a moth drown?

I set it on the bath mat

To live silently until dawn, or maybe nine.

I will check for it tomorrow,

And for my sake, it will be gone,

Flown away on pitiful shredded wings.

Have you ever seen a moth die?

Not I.

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Self-expression

Arm over head

Swing it down by my side

Kick a leg into the air

Rotate hips in lopsided circle

Flatten hands and windmill arms as if generating hydroelectricity

Fly hair around face

Let head hang and sway like tree in storm

Take off sweatshirt

Do a pirouette like ballet class

I was never good at ballet class

But man can I pirouette

Although to be truthful

When I watched myself in the relentless mirrors

Of ballet class my pirouettes were leany

They leaned

And they were uncontrolled

They were very dizzy and a little unhinged

So objectively, no my pirouettes were not good

But the spirit of a pirouette. I have seized the spirit of a pirouette

I am whirling it around with me and it is having the time of its life

And then I leap into the air

And the spirit of the pirouette is flung to the ceiling

And I am dancing.

I don’t need to dance like no one is watching

Because no one is watching.

Only sometimes me

I catch myself reflected in the window

A glowing, double-outlined blur of dancing

I look mad.

Sometimes I have to rewrite a sentence five times before I can move onto the next

Sometimes I get halfway through Claire de Lune and I give up

Because it feels so stunted

Sometimes I think of a message I could send to a friend

And then I don’t

Because it might not come out right

But I am so bad at dancing

That I have become perfect at it.

Both arms in air

Jump

Bend knees and shimmy

Another pirouette

Sway for slow part

Move whole body at once

Convulsion of ecstasy

Heedless and without grace.