The Dancer (not a romantic poem)

(Turns out growing up is just saying

goodbye a bunch of times)

She and the other girl are bent back to back like flowing

spokes of a wheel.

Their arms grasp each other's waists, legs straight

points & turn, as a unit, one girl over

another, immaculate.

Her partner, when she lifts off, jumps

into the air, preparing and then performing an action, but she

she just— rises; slow, smooth, strong—

hovers...

They have practiced this many times.

so much, I think, that it's no longer something they

do together— it's something they do

for each other.

(Turns out growing up is just saying

goodbye a bunch of times)

I will know this girl— woman for another month, maybe less

before she leaves for California, and then college.

—she will continue to dance—

(Some people just deserve

a beautiful life)

The two-girl wheel makes its way turn

by

turn across the stage and almost into the wing before

they step off of each other like becoming

two people again.

They are coming back and

yin-yang-flowing on and

off, back and forth, they know

how to do what they do.

(Some people just deserve

a beautiful life)

Her hair curls

close to her head, face so

her own, like a painting, like

the music she knows how to dance to

like liberty—

(Some people are just beautiful)

Everyone here is saying goodbye to one family.

She is saying goodbye to everyone here.

She is leaving all of this.

She is also, by the way, dancing

& dancing like she doesn't 

know what to do with herself except this—

here—

now—

I hope she never stops dancing.

(You're beautiful)